Chapter 6

Chapter Six 

Khloe Anderson

And you might want to keep your key in a safer place.

And you might want to keep your key in a safer place...

My head snapped towards him as I finally understood how those men entered my apartment. His words kept replaying in my mind. He'd seen where I kept my spare key. He'd helped them. He gave them permission to enter my apartment. Everything was about him.

It would explain my apartment's heater turned on the night I was kidnapped. They were beyond bold. He was beyond bold. Why am I even surprised? I shouldn't be. His line of work, he had no respect for himself and the lives of others. No mercy...

He made me remember why I didn't trust people in the first place. He made me remember why I kept to myself. Why I didn't let people in.

I stared at the man in anger and hate, and all other emotions that weren't similar to 'like'. But he wasn't a man. He has never been a man. A monster? A criminal? Maybe.

"Do you feel proud of yourself for betraying someone? For hurting people? For being a murderer?" I questioned, my anger and hatred for him- a man who was one of the few people I trusted- emerging. "I bet your mom's so proud of you." I sarcastically seethe, keeping my gaze on the man that betrayed me.

There was no greater betrayal than that of one's life. Life is the most priceless gift there is. And to threaten someone with death? I couldn't decipher how persons were able to live their lives knowing that they'd harmed others; caused others pain, and grief. How could they sleep during the night with all those thoughts about every murder they'd committed? How could they? The families broken, the people who will never be able to see their loved ones again...the blood on their hands.

Pathetic. That's what they are. That's what a life like this entails.

I wasn't scared of him. And I didn't want him to have an inkling of an idea that I did fear him. I felt vulnerable, not able to save myself. However, without a gun, what is he? A powerless, psychotic, and pathetic murderer.

I was brought out of my trance by his voice. "My mom," he said, the word sounding foreign, even to me. I saw the hurt cross his face, and for a moment I felt sorry for him. However, as quickly as it surfaced, it was gone. I should never feel sorry for a man like him. He'd tied me to a chair, pulled a gun to my chest, and was here acting like his world had been taken away from him. I bet he won't think this when he's being held hostage in a room that seemed perfect enough for rodents, and having no idea if he'll actually be rescued.

Yet, as I thought about this, I couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't killed me the night before when he had the chance. He could've suffocated me while I lay on his couch, in his apartment. However, he didn't. He let me sleep, and he left for work. It was only when he came back that he remembered he was supposed to kill me. The more I thought about this, the more confused I got. I couldn't help but think that there was more to the story than he let on. There was a truth behind all this kidnapping and holding me hostage. We'd lived as neighbours for over a year and he hadn't tried anything.

My confusion and inquisitiveness getting the best of me, I question, "Why now?" My voice is a mere whisper, and I internally curse him for putting me through a hostage situation again. I'd promised myself never to go through this again.

He must have heard because a moment later, he replied. "It had never been about you."

Bullshit. Everything had to do with me, and if it wasn't then he made it about me when they kidnapped me. I'd lived a quiet and comfortable life for all of my 22 years alive, except the past week where everything seemed like a huge fabricated lie. So, yes it has something to do with me, and I wanted to know what it was.

"Is this about my dad? Has this always been about my dad or was it just an act?"

"Your dad isn't perfect, Khloe. He's made mistakes in the past. He's hurt people. He's created monsters by his actions. Don't for one second think that he's just a good guy." Then in a softer voice, he said, "People lie."

His words were unsettling. What did he mean by that? I knew my dad wasn't perfect. No one is. We're all filled with imperfections. No one needed to remind me of that simple detail. However, what he's implying is that my dad hurt him and others.

"What did he do to you?" I whispered.

He looked at me, his face no longer angry. Hurt was what I saw, and for the second time I felt sorry for him. This was pain. For a man who hurt others for a living, he didn't seem like the type to cry, or show emotions. He didn't seem like the type to do anything but hurt others. However, as he looked at me, it reminded me of the man I'd met a year ago when he was moving in. At the time, he didn't seem in pain.

"He's after me."

I had no time to ponder on his words. The front door suddenly burst open and we're greeted by Novak and his friend Chris. They walk closer into the living room, guns drawn and staring angrily as Brad.

"Phillip, drop the gun," Novak seethed, as his eyes roamed my body checking whether or not I'm injured.

Phillip? Who's Phillip? I looked from one to the other, confused.

"Oh, you've made the connection," Brad chuckled, only heightening my confusion. What are they talking about? And what connection? "It's pathetic how you Soldiers are always so quick to assume things."

"I said drop the gun."

"No. I've ran my entire life. Ran from the truth, and for the truth," he replied, and shaking his head, it seems like he's trying to forget a painful memory. He seemed to be in battle with himself. Almost like his life depended on what he was about to say. "I didn't set that bomb. I didn't kill all those people."

There was silence in the room, and I thought I'd never hear noise again for the rest of my life. I was silent because I was confused- having no idea what he was talking about, and by the looks on Novak and Chris' faces, they were confused for a totally understandable reason. Why? I had no idea. Brad had said he was innocent, but why? What bomb? Is he running away, not wanting to face charges for killing people? He said he hadn't murdered all those people.

But friendship can't save you now. But friendship can't save you now.

I was absolutely puzzled by Brad's words and actions. He became my neighbour and friend, using me to find Intel on my dad, spoken to Dave- the man responsible for my kidnap, helped those men kidnap me, acted relieved to see me when I returned home, was sad that Dave had slapped me, and only recently he'd tied me to a chair and pointed a gun at me. Yet, I could never forget about the gun. I was still tied to the chair, and hoping to get out of my present predicament.

I couldn't understand him. What side is he on? Is he bipolar? It would explain his mood swings, and him not being able to make up his damn mind. Where's the guy who- just minutes ago- said that he would kill me? That I'd never have a future.

It had never been about you...

However, I knew it wasn't true. I was his bait. He'd used me to get to my dad, and in the process, put my life at risk.

"What do you mean?" Chris asked, venom lining his tone.

Sighing, Brad- or Phillip answered, "Damon Diaz."

Chris and Novak froze at the mention of the name. By the looks on their faces, I could tell that Damon Diaz- whomever he is- is not a man you should ever cross.

"The Mafia? What is this about?"

I hated being out in the dark. All this talk about the mafia and being innocent for a crime that he didn't commit, had me confused. However, I knew the mafia being involved was never a good sign.

"Dave asked me to do a job for Damon. It was for a bomb which Damon said was for a business associate. I agreed because I needed the money, and was satisfied with the reason that he gave me. However, when I did find out that the bomb was to kill all those people, it was too late. I threatened to sell them out, but before I knew it the bomb went off and cops were after me. I didn't have another choice but to run."

His voice held so much emotion, that even I believed him. He was set-up for something he didn't do. Yes, he created the bomb, but no, he didn't kill all those people. They lied to him, and he made a bomb that destroyed his life, and the lives of others. Yet, even as I thought about this, I wondered why I feel even an ounce of sympathy for him? He'd used me, and literally thrown me out to the wolves in the end. Actually, no. He brought the wolves to me.

"If that's true, then why did you come after Khloe?" Novak asked.

He paused, and I thought he'd never answer. However, he did, and what he said, made me freeze.

"Honestly, I did come after Khloe to get to her dad. That was when I found out that the General did have a daughter. However, when I got to know her, I realized that it made no sense to use her like this. So, I kept a low profile, hoping they would never find me.

"They were after Khloe." As he said that, he turned to look at me. "General Anderson ceased their drug trail and they were angry. Dave called and said that Damon was coming after her, and I thought it would be safer to get her out of here. I trusted Dave to protect her until this blew over, so I asked him to take her to a secure location. I had no idea that Dave was working with them this whole time. Two more days and she would've been dead. They would've come for her."

I couldn't believe my ears. Dave had set him up, too. He'd trusted Dave with my life, and in the end, it had been a huge lie. I guess we both had a VIP seat for betrayal of those we trusted. However, had he really helped me? Or had he put my life in danger? In ways he did, yet in others, he put me in a situation that I never wanted to ever experience.

Again, I was brought out of my reverie by Brad's voice.

"When Dave called me the first time since they'd left, he happened to mention that they were awaiting someone's arrival. I had no idea who it was, so I questioned him and he happened to talk about Diaz. That's when I told him that he should send a video to the general and I guess he did, that's why they were able to find her."

In all his ranting, Novak had moved to untie my hands, and pushed me to stand behind him, shielding me with his body.

"So why tie her up now?" Chris asked, and I was glad that he asked. That would've been my next question because I also wanted to know why. Why threaten to kill me? Why tie me up to a chair, pointing a gun at my chest.

"When I saw her with the picture of myself and Dave, I thought she would or had called her dad. I didn't want her to. They would come for me, and I couldn't let that happen. I didn't escape all these years to end up in a jail cell for a crime I didn't commit. I'm a lot of things, but a murderer isn't one of them."

~**~

Logan Novak

I looked at the man in front of me, not certain whether or not to believe the words he'd just said. It kind of made sense in a way. For a man with no reason to kill, why would he have murdered 20 people and leaving over 50 injured? That bomb had been at a park in the open. Those able to run for their lives, made it out safely. The others were not as fortunate. However, the bombing was done in a merciless way. It's almost like the person had no heart- to kill all those innocent people- children as well as adults. That was a job for a murderer- someone with no purpose; nothing to lose. It wasn't a surprise for a criminal to run away from his crimes, but he came to stay next to an Army General's daughter and hadn't done anything to her for the year they'd lived together.

His fingerprints had been on the bomb. That's how the FBI knew who was responsible for the bombing. That's careless for a criminal. They would know what and how to do things like this, never leaving a trace behind. But he left more than just a trace. He left his identity. However, it wasn't him that left his identity. It was Damon Diaz who had set him up to take the blame for the vicious crime.

If he had any relations with Damon Diaz, he's lucky to have make it out alive. Damon isn't the one to chit-chat or leave his rivals alive. He kills anyone who gets in his way- no mercy. Every Federal organization has been looking for Damon, never able to find him. Always so close, yet so far. He's like a ghost.

But, now we could have a chance of getting him. He was coming after Khloe and Gen. Anderson, and he probably won't stop until he has them in his possession.

I needed to call Anderson. And fast.

Instead, I asked, "Is his mafia still huge?"

Jay Phillip nodded. "About a hundred men. I kept tabs on them."

I nod in understanding. I needed to know whether or not we stand a chance against Diaz and his men. They were ruthless, and would kill anyone standing in their way. But we- the Army- were trained for situations worse than this. We could defeat them once we have an insight as to how they go about doing their 'work'- for lack of a better word. Yet, I knew it wasn't a job. It was a life decision. Everyone has a choice and he chose to hurt others. He'll know hurt when his life is on the line, like every person he's killed in the past. His time will come, sooner rather than later.

"We can't leave you here knowing Diaz can find you alone." I said to Phillips. "Khloe is coming with me."

He nodded and from my peripheral view I saw Khloe scowling at me.

Instead, I focused on Phillip. "I'll speak to the general at the pentagon and they'll keep you protected."

He doesn't seem to agree with my idea, probably fearing that they'll torture him...or worse. "I'll explain your situation to them. They'll understand." I didn't want him getting away. If he was at the Pentagon, they would put him under surveillance and if he was lying to us, it would be easy to find him.

He nods, and turning to Chris, I say, "Khloe needs help packing her stuff."

~**~

Later that night as I finish up business in my apartment office, I frown at that particular line in the document that I've been trying to read for the past ten minutes. Key word: trying. I wasn't partially blind, to be having eye problems, and I wasn't stupid either. It was the woman in my apartment, in my kitchen, preparing dinner that had me going out of my mind.

I chuckled, remembering the feisty woman who is somewhere in this apartment. Thankfully, it hadn't taken a lot of convincing to get her to agree to stay over at my penthouse suite. I knew she wanted her freedom, but there is a possible mafia organization coming after her. Her dad could take care of himself, and I know for certain that the General's wife and sons are being protected. Khloe however, needed someone to look after her.

Her dad wasn't pleased finding out about Jay Philip and Damon Diaz earlier on. And frankly, I didn't blame him. Even I didn't know what to expect and when exactly.

Packing up the files and scolding my mind for doing nothing but think about Khloe, I left my office, heading towards the kitchen. The sight I was greeted with had me smiling like a maniac. She stood in a pair of sweatpants and a sweater, biting on her lower lip as she concentrated really hard on the task at hand. She was putting whipped cream on cupcakes that she'd baked earlier on, filling the penthouse with a homey smell. I can't even remember the last time I'd cooked. I normally ate at home with my parents or ordered out, so for such a sweet aroma, it felt so perfect. So right.

Looking at her closely, I noticed her brown hair up in a ponytail accentuating her cheekbones, perfect button nose, long eyelashes, and face totally bare of any makeup. Her bubble butt that I'd pictured my hands resting upon comfortably, and perfect d-cup breasts- ideal for fumbling, were perfectly outlined by her clothes. What else could make a woman more beautiful?

Deciding to make my presence known, I cleared my throat, her head swinging to look at me. "You know you didn't need to prepare anything. We could've ordered from a restaurant nearby. I wouldn't mind."

She looked at me like I'd gone mad. "Are you crazy? I love cooking," and in a softer voice, she continued, "and it helps me keep my mind off everything that's occurred recently."

I nodded. She did have her own catering business and bakery. No one- in their right mind would go into such a business hating the very idea of cooking. I could see the passion that her eyes held earlier today when she asked me to stop over at the supermarket to get a few things. I'd never actually done domestic shopping before, and I didn't regret one moment being there with her. She made every item seem like something totally special, like it wasn't just food. We'd argued on who should pay for the groceries, and I won in the end, after a long and heated argument.

And after such a week, I could understand why she needed to cook. Others had been through worse situations but I could tell that it had taken a toll on her. If she had to burn this apartment down while cooking, then so be it. Besides, her food smelt absolutely delectable.

She's a headstrong woman, and although it pained me a little that her future husband would have an amazing wife, I couldn't admire her more than I did at the moment.