Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Khloe Anderson

I watched the Commander- I mean, Logan closely as he ate his dinner. I wasn't exactly comfortable calling him 'Logan'. I thought it was completely disrespectful. Clearly for a man of such rank and having saved my life, he deserved an award. Sure, I could call him whatever I wanted in the privacy of my mind. No one needed to know. But to say it out loud, I was still coming to terms with this new arrangement.

I'd prepared steak, cheese-stuffed baked potatoes, and steamed vegetables. He seemed to be enjoying it by the moans I heard coming from his throat. I did, too. But for a completely different reason.

Cooking again felt like being in a kitchen for the first time- ever. I'd wanted to take my mind off my recent experiences, and what better way to distract myself than by doing what I love the most? Cooking and baking were part of my life. It wasn't just someone I did. It's my refuge. I couldn't picture myself doing anything else in my life. It's what I always wanted to be.

"This is really good," Logan complements and I thank him.

This isn't one of my proudest life situations. However, I knew I didn't have a choice. I could be dead any moment from now, with Damon Diaz coming for me. Logan told me time and time again that Diaz is ruthless, and will stop at nothing until he finds me or my dad. It seemed like the closer I get to finally having my life back, the more I realize that this isn't over. This clearly has only just begun.

I haven't been so scared for my life before this past week. This has been the worst few days of my life, and I knew I'd have to learn to accept that my life may never be the same again. I'd hate having to look over my shoulder for any possible threats my whole life. I hated having to look over my shoulder, wondering when I'm going to die- now. I hated everything, and time and time again, I wondered why this had to have happened to me.

Why me?

I hadn't harmed a soul before in my entire life. I hadn't caused anyone any sort of pain. But I knew the answer to my silent question. My dad's occupation has exposed him to some of the most dangerous people in the world; people who love others to suffer with grief and considerable pain. And if my dad's in trouble, then his family will most-likely be, too... I hated being in the spotlight. Yet, I knew my situation can't be categorized as me being in the spotlight. Instead what I did have was a death wish. A horrendous death wish.

My life's plan had always been to be happy, socialize, and bake until I've changed the world- one dessert at a time. Now however, my plan is simple. Stay here with Logan, him keeping an eye on me until my dad finds the man who wants to kill us. I'm not allowed outside the apartment until this issue is rectified, and I can't have any contact with the outside world. As of now, I'm on vacation and my staff has chosen a temporary boss until I'm able to return to my shop.

As I said before, this isn't the best idea. However, by staying away from other people, I'm able to save my life and theirs. I won't know when and where anything can happen. Damon has killed people before. He won't bat an eyelash if he has the opportunity to kill me or anybody I'm with.

"Do you think I'll ever be able to have my life back?" I question, my voice a mere whisper.

Logan's head snaps towards me, his hazel eyes sparkling, yet, with a comforting look in their depths. "I can't promise you anything, but you just need to have faith that your dad will find Damon and all this will be over." As he says this, I can hear the emotion in his voice.

He's not the one whose life can be ended anytime from now. Damon is after me, and if I'm dead, Logan would still have his life, and grow old, with a wife and kids. However, as I thought about this, I frowned. Yeah, right! Who's the lucky woman to get this Casanova to settle down, anyway?

'You wish it would be you,' my subconscious teased, and I internally showed her my middle finger. I didn't need my thoughts traveling in this direction. I always needed a clear and uncorrupt mind when around him, or I might start doing or saying things that I shouldn't.

"-and maybe this will all be just a memory one day. Who knows? You might look back and smile at all this."

Not having heard all the conversation, I thought it would be absolutely rude to ask my host what he'd just said. Nodding, I will my mind, and wayward thoughts to calm down, hoping that the rest of his advice did come to pass. Yes!

I wish one day I could only look back on this, with a huge smile on my face, thinking about all I'd been through, and how I was still standing strong; how I'd survived the scariest experience in my life. I wish I could tell my story to my kids, with the moral that they should always have faith that things will get better with time, and patience.

Oh how I wish!

~**~

Later that night as I lay in bed- my mind consumed by memories of my past, and my unknown future, a knock resounded on the door of the guest bedroom that Logan had given to me for a temporary room while living here. It was huge, and the ideal room I would invest in for my dream house. Very spacious too, and the bed was to die for.

I'd just lied down on the bed, about ready to give up on my life for at least a few hours, and I internally groaned at the thought of Logan wanting to chat with me. Now, of all the time in the world.

Nonetheless, I knew I had to invite him in. He's my host, and I bet in some book, there's a law that says 'you should never disrespect your host'.

"Come in," I say, and the door is pushed open and I'm greeted by the tall 6'6" of all male, who'd retreated to his office earlier to do some business. I take in his appearance. He's dressed in a grey sweatpants and hoodie as he'd been earlier.

"I came to check up on you," he says, looking around the room. I bet he hadn't entered this room or the many others in a while. Why did he have so many extra rooms when he's the only one who stays here?

"I'm temporarily settled in," I smile, trying to be as kind as I possibly can.

He nods, and sitting on the edge of the bed, he sighs. "I want you to feel comfortable here. I never have company and I'm hardly ever here, so this place is still new to me. You're welcome to look around. I don't bite," he chuckles at his last words, and I'm happy that he's not going to be constantly at my throat for everything.

"Thank you," I say, smiling.

He nods. "You have a good night's sleep. I'm off to bed."

I wish he would invite me to have a good night's sleep with him. Instead, he stands and leaves even before I can say goodnight. I frown at my thoughts. Who would want a 22 year old virgin anyway? Men wanted experienced women, and I am clearly not one of them.

Turning off the bedside lamp, I close my eyes, hoping to drown out all the awful memories, and focus on my happy place. Cakes. Cookies. Pies. Pancakes...Perfection...

~**~

I'm brought out of my deep slumber by the eerily feeling that someone's in my room. My eyes flew open, and I'm greeted by the silhouette of a shadow standing over my bed. Before I can scream, a hand comes around to cover my mouth, muffling the sounds. I thrash around, trying in vain to remove the hand that's clamped over my mouth. I say a silent pray to God- still struggling to get free- praying that he delivers me from this situation. However, a moment later, I come face to face with a pair of intense hazel eyes. Eyes I can never forget. Eyes that even in the darkness, I can recognize.

I exhale in relief, knowing that I wasn't about to die. It wasn't my time. Another shadow comes into focus, and I notice Chris standing there, staring at me.

"Why are you here?" I ask, my voice still shaky, and my heartbeat slowly returning to normal.

"They're here," is all Logan says, and I don't bother asking him who. I know who is here, there's no questioning. Damon Diaz had found me, and he's here.

They're here...

Here...

I jumped, startled from what could only be a nightmare. I knew it had to be. The guest room was bright enough to look around at my surroundings. I was still in Logan's suite, and I was relieved to realize that I was the only one in the room. They weren't actually here. But it had felt so real, like it was really the time for me to die.

Placing my palm over my chest, I inhale deeply, willing my heartbeat to return to normal. It was just a dream. It was just a dream... Just a dream. I'm safe.

At least, I hope I will be... 

~**~

A week passed by with me having been cooped up in Logan's penthouse. I grew tired of seeing the same rooms every day. Although I'd never actually gone to every single room in this huge penthouse suite, I was becoming frustrated. I wasn't allowed to leave the suite- ever. I had absolutely no contact with the outside world, Logan having warned me of the risks of using my electronics. I'd known there would be rules with me staying here, and at first I was fine with it. Now, I am tired. Tired.

I hated seeing Logan and Chris come and go as they pleased, and I was left here, watching movie all day long, and longing to be back at my shop. I know my staff are doing an immaculate job running the business without me. They certainly deserved a raise after this. It had been two weeks since my kidnap, and I feared that the more I remained here, the more frustrating it will become.

I groaned as I stood up from the couch, pacing in the living room. What to do? What to do? For the past week, I've wondered how people are able to sit around all day. I needed to move around, meet new people, and most of all bake. I did bake, but I needed to see my shop, try new things for my customers, and give my staff a break from all they've had to do for the past two weeks. I need to leave here.

But I didn't want to die. This was the only reason why I was able to stay here all this time. I still hadn't changed my mind about dying. My views were still the same. And thinking about the many ways a man such as Damon Diaz could kill me, I didn't want to entertain such a thought. I had enough on my mind already.

Maybe I could check my email. Just check. Not even reply. My mind would be put to ease. I know people would be worried after having not heard from for so long. Alyssa would be worried too. She would be going out of her mind wondering what's wrong. It's not like me to ignore her messages and calls, and she knew this. We spoke every morning on my way to the bakery, and whenever I had a chance during the day.

Searching for my iPhone around the living room, I find it on the coffee table under a few magazines. Turning it on, I'm a bundle of nerves, wondering what I'll find. Finally, when the home screen comes into view, I freeze at the notifications bar. 102 missed calls. 139 text messages. I didn't even bother checking my F******k and E-mail accounts. Majority of the missed calls were from Alyssa, and looking through my text messages, I see numerous messages from her.

Why haven't you called me? I'm worried about you. Please call me back.

What's going on? It's not like you to ignore my calls or text messages.

I'm really worried right now. Please call me to tell me you're alright. Love you.

I'm calling your mom if I don't hear from you in the next 24 hours.

As the days passed, the more worried she sounded in the messages.

I'm going way out of my mind right now. It's been a week, and I've tried to call you so many times. Does someone else have my best friend's phone? If so, you'll give me a heart attack. I'm trying to reach her.

I called your mom, and she told me you've been back in New York for three days. Why haven't you returned my calls? I'm coming to New York as soon as I can, young lady, and you better have the most perfect explanation for your sudden disappearance.

I felt so bad, not being able to have replied to her messages. I knew by her messages that she was frantic. I would be too if I happened to call her and didn't get in contact with her for this long. What a terrible friend I have been. I've been back for a week and a half and I didn't even bother using Logan or Chris' phone to call my friend, staff or family. I hated feeling guilt. And right at this moment, I felt an unexplainable amount of guilt rush through me.

Scrolling, I continued to go through her messages, not bothering to open some, knowing that they all held the same subject. One message especially caught my attention.

If you're not gonna call or text me back, then I'll come look for you instead. You know how my boss can get sometimes. But tomorrow, I'll come to NY to look for you, even if I have to search every building down until I find you.

This message was dated yesterday, at 6:20 pm. Most probably when she arrived home from work.

I'm at your apartment building. Where are you?

I froze. The date said earlier today, at 8:57 am. She's at my apartment. I wonder if she's still there. She wouldn't gone to the bakery to look for me if I wasn't there. She wouldn't have stayed back at my apartment until I came home from work- would she? However, as I thought about this, I couldn't help but be worried. We'd moved all my things from my apartment.

The only evidence that someone did reside there, would be the furniture that I had left, most of them having been destroyed by my kidnappers. She had been to my apartment so she would be able to recognize my furniture, but it would never explain where and why I left. Except- my apartment wasn't cleaned from being thrashed, so she would notice the glass and fragments of wood on the floor in the living room. As I thought about this, I remembered that Brad isn't even in the building. Logan had taken him somewhere, so both apartments would be bare until our leases are up.

Praying that she hadn't stayed in that awful building that held the most terrible memories, I ran to the guest room where my stuff were, quickly changing into a pair of jeans, a grey t-shirt and a pair of vans. Grabbing my phone from the coffee table, I quickly, dash out of the penthouse, with one thought in mind; that I get to see my best friend.

I don't pause enough to inhale the crisp breeze, or appreciate the slightly warm weather. Instead, I immediately flag down the first taxi I could find. When I'm finally in the protection of the car, I think of what I would tell her about my disappearance. Yet, I knew I could never lie to Alyssa. That's why we're best friends. We can never keep a secret from each other. Even if I did lie to her now, I knew I would have to tell her the truth sooner- rather than later.

As the taxi stops at the building, it's only then I realize that I hadn't taken any money with me. I gulp. It would be completely useless having come all the way here just to turn back in the end because I hadn't thought about the fare. I pat down my jeans pants, hoping- and praying, by God's mercy, that I would be able to find money. 

And it seemed like God did hear me because, putting my hand into my right-front pocket, I pull out a fifty dollar bill. Passing it to the taxi driver, I don't even wait for my change before I'm out of the car and running to the door of my apartment. The door is slightly opened when I get there, and I push it all the way through, with one goal in mind- to get to my best friend.

What I failed to recognize was the tense atmosphere, or the horrendous scene of my friend tied to a chair, similar to how I'd been at Brad's apartment. My heart fell, and tears spilled over involuntarily as I took in her position. Her mouth was gagged with a piece of cloth, her black hair stuck to her face from what could only be sweat.

I went to rush to her side, my goal to get her out of here. However, her eyes met mine, and she looked scared for her life, and mine. She shook her head vigorously, and I was confused at her action. She was trying to say something- tell me something- but it was muffled by the cloth. I rushed to her side, instantly removing the gag.

"You need to leave. Now."

Her voice was filled with fear, and even I feared for my life at that moment. Alyssa was never scared. Of anything. And she is now. And I knew only one person could make her fear for her life this much. This was Damon's doing. There was no denying it. However, before I can help her out the chair, footsteps sounded, and I froze as understanding dawned upon me. Without a doubt I knew that this was Damon. Damon Diaz had found me. And this wasn't a dream, or nightmare. This was reality. And he is my worst nightmare.

"Nice of you to finally join us," the voice said, and although I'd been kidnapped once before, and tied to a chair recently by someone I'd trusted, nothing could prepare me for the immense fear that ran throughout my body.