Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Khloe Anderson

Waking the next morning, I'm greeted by an eerily quiet environment. I groan at the thought of it being Monday. The television is turned off and the apartment shows no other form of life. Sitting up on the couch, I yawn. Certainly unladylike but rather appreciated in such an early, chilly morning.

I don't hear water indicating that Brad is preparing for work. Looking at the clock, I notice it's about the time I normally met him outside on my way to work in the morning. He's probably gone already, I thought.

Standing, I walk over to the window, pulling the curtains to the side to look outside. It still shows signs of a cold weather, and I hug myself for much needed warmth.

I should get going if I want to arrive at work early enough. But first, I would have to go downstairs to my apartment. Everything I own is down there.

Opening the front door, I walk down the stairs and into my apartment. The door is locked. However, I remember where I'd placed a spare key. I knew this wasn't an entirely brilliant idea, but a time like now, I appreciate it. Picking up the stone, I frown. The key isn't there. I can't remember telling anyone about it being there. Well anyone in New York. Alyssa knew where she could find it if she needed to enter my apartment, but I would've known if she was actually in New York.

But how would I know? I'd been kidnapped for three days- with no contact with the outside world. I would have no idea if someone tried contacting me. This only increased my confusion. Where has my key gone to? It couldn't be that my kidnappers had used it to enter my apartment. But that would explain them being here and it showing no signs of forced entry. They must have entered via the front door.

Confused, I climbed back up the stairs, and into Brad's apartment. Feeling hungry, I entered the kitchen to get something to eat. However, I didn't make it far. A photo caught my attention. It was of two men doing a friendly sort of manly hug. I didn't recognize the buff man. However, the other guy was Brad- no doubt. His hair was blonde in the photo, probably his twin. But since he'd moved here, he hadn't spoken about any family members. He didn't go away to visit family for holidays, but he was always taking business trips during the year.

'He doesn't have to tell you anything about his family,' a voice reminded. And it was true. He didn't have any explanation to give to me about whom he met or where he went. But he knew about my family. My brothers had met him a few times when they came to visit. When my dad came over, he'd always make up some excuse about having to be out of town.

He did...

Looking closely at the picture, I concluded that this was indeed Brad. The hair? No. The eyes, nose, lips, and jaw? Yes. Definitely Brad. But the other man struck me as someone I knew. I couldn't pinpoint it though. He didn't seem familiar, but on the other hand, he reminded me of someone I'd met before. Somewhere. Somehow.

Shrugging, I'm about to place the frame back in its place, but I freeze at the sight of the man's arms. His right arm was outstretched clearly depicting a tattoo that I immediately recognized. I'd seen a fair share of tattoos in the past, and I'd met a number of people with similar tattoos. But this one was nothing ordinary. It read 'Angela' same as the one I remembered. Coincidence? I bet not.

My kidnapper had covered his face, but he'd forgotten to cover up his tattoos. And this tattoo not only made me recognize the face of the man who had slapped me, but it told me that my neighbour- the man I trusted, and saw every day- knew the man who'd taken me and locked me in that Godforsaken room on a personal level. I couldn't tell why things occurred how they did, but I could tell by the photo that Mr. Kidnapper and Brad were more than just 'acquaintances'. They were more like best friends by what I could see.

Yet, if he knew the man who'd kidnapped me, then he would've known about my kidnap even before it had occurred. If their friendship is to that level, then they would tell each other everything.

Oh God!

Could it be that he'd become friends with me just so he could learn about me and my family? My dad, especially. It would explain why he never stuck around when my dad was in New York City. Could the reason be because he knew my dad all along and didn't want to blow his cover?

This led me to believe how messed up this world is. How messed up people are. How cruel they can be.

A door slams, and I look up to see Brad standing there- staring at me. I try putting the picture away but he has already seen it, and by the look on his face, he's not at all angry that I have.

"I see you've been looking around," he says, as if it's no big deal.

I don't respond. What will I say? 'Hey Brad, how do you know my kidnapper?' As far as conversations went, I don't think this one would have a great outcome. I knew little about men and how they think. But if he really is- or was- a criminal, he would never like the idea that I'd stumbled upon this piece of evidence.

"I see you know Dave," he continues, as he walks towards me.

What if I made a run for it? The fact that he knows his name puts everything into perspective. I'd heard my dad and Logan talking about Dave Sanchez- one of the US most wanted men, and the man who was responsible for my kidnapping, before we'd boarded the helicopter to fly back to NY. And the tattoo with the exact same name on it, color, and highlights. Everything.

"Dave and I were...It doesn't matter what we were anyway. The point is, you're here in my apartment with nowhere to run. Daddy can't save you now. No one can. For years I've watched you from a distance...waiting. And then finally, one day, I became your neighbour. It was the perfect disguise- if I might add. You can be so naïve too. So clueless. But I didn't regret one second of our friendship. Now, however, I'm kind of irritated at all these hide and seek games we've been playing. It's time we end this. Or I end you."

As he stepped towards me, I automatically stepped back trying to keep as much distance between us. If he caught me, God knows what he would do to me. I still hadn't changed my views about death in the past couple hours.

"You are one of the most difficult people to get through to," he spoke, so overly confident. "You don't say much. It took me a while to learn the slightest things about you. It's almost like you're...reserved."

I didn't want to listen to him. I wanted to be out of here. To be away from a man I'd trusted...for the slightest bit of time. A man that had used me for his own selfish reasons.

I watched as he drew a gun from the waistband of his jeans, toying it in his hands as he looked closely at it. "The downfall of a man is a woman, huh? This world is becoming so out of control, and the people like your father, who are meant to protect others, he's the one who causes us to do what we do."

I frowned. "No one forces you to do anything. You chose to kill, and hurt others. And you will pay for your sins." We have the power to make our own choices, and if his choices were to hurt and kill people, then he made his decision. He planned his fate.

"No sweetheart. We will pay for our sins," and raising the gun to my chest, he gives me a smirk. "Now, pass me that tape," he nods towards the shelf where a duct tape lay. Picking it up, I hand it over to him, my hands shaking. "And go sit on the couch."

Not trusting him for one second, I decide against trying to escape. Before, I could have tried escaping, but now, with a gun pointing towards my face, I would be dead before I could make a step out the door. My chances were pretty slim.

As he tied my arms and legs, I tried reassuring myself that he wouldn't dare lay a hand on me. He's my friend.

A friend that set you up.

Why is the world so cruel? Why are people so cruel?

All my life I'd wanted to move away from trouble, but it seems like I left the pan only to fall in the fire. It's like I'd survived one of the most traumatic experiences in anyone's life, just so I could die in the end. An end that certainly should not be my destiny. I had more to live for. I was worth more than just a bullet in the head, or chest.

I looked at the man I'd trusted, tears rushing down my cheeks as realization dawned upon me. I could be dead in a few minutes, no one to save me from this horrifying event. He could kill me and possibly get away with this.

Yet, as I thought about this, I knew Logan would know who killed me if I did die. He would suspect the man whose apartment he'd dropped met off at. And with that thought, I prayed that he would find me.

And fast.

~**~

Logan Novak

I laze around my apartment the entire day Monday, having refused to go to the office. I'd called Levi and my parents when I got in last night, and they'd promised that everything in the office was running smoothly. I'd agreed to return to the office on Tuesday, ready to get back on with my life.

As I watched reruns of some mindless TV show, I went through my text messages, seeing all the texts from the many women I'd met at one point in the past. The messages dated all the way back to Friday night when I'd put my phone on silent to not be disturbed at the weekly barbecue.

Snobby socialist, Jasmine Drake- who thinks we're a couple- has been pestering my life for months, wanting us to become 'lovers'. I would've taken the offer if her face, boobs and butt weren't surgically enhanced, and I wasn't allergic to her attitude and personality. I love my women natural; curves, breasts, butt and facial features. I'd always felt that plastic surgery basically entailed using products of this world to make oneself beautiful; things that are made by human beings. Beauty was made my God. Nothing can beat that. There's nothing natural about cosmetic and aesthetic surgery. However, Jasmine thought she looked fantastic.

She thinks she is some angel from heaven that had stumbled upon the earth, and that the entire human race needed to bow down to her. I'd heard stories from friends and acquaintances about Jasmine and how she'd told her 'friends' every single detail about her relationship with other men. That again was a no-no. A relationship is meant to be for two people, but when you go around telling your friends everything we've done or even discussed, it is the caution sign that says this relationship needs to end. And fast.

So now, as I sit there going through text messages, I ignore every single one she sent me. I drastically needed to change my phone number. How she got to have my cell phone number is beyond me. I'd never once spoken to her for more than a minute, and that's definitely insufficient time to arrive at the area in a friendship when I give away my phone number.

I knew once she set her eyes on a guy, it would take much more than mere declines to get her to back off. However, I was pissed off at her persistence. Didn't she ever give up?

I was distracted from my thoughts by the sound of the elevator's 'ding', and the front door being opened. I knew only family and close friends had the code to enter my penthouse, so it didn't surprise me when Chris entered the living room a moment later, surprised to see my on the couch.

"You scared me. Next time say something," he said as he sat on one of the couches in front of the TV. I snorted at his remark. He'd just entered my penthouse suite without permission, and didn't expect to see me in my own living room.

"It's my apartment. I do what I want," I chastised.

Looking closely at his attire, I notice that he's dressed for an outing. He'd normally enter my apartment in sweatpants or something of that sort. "Went to see Stacie, huh?" I teased.

"You bet your ass I did," he chuckled.

Stacie was his latest conquest, after the many hearts he had broken. Honestly speaking, she'll be next in line to have her heart crushed when he tells her he's not searching for commitment. The women I dated knew I didn't do relationships. It was just a sexual acquaintance of that sort. They shouldn't expect anything else to come from that. But it didn't mean that they always listened.

"What about you?" he asked. "Went to visit one of your ladies?"

"No. I'm having a quiet day here," I explained. However, that's not the total story. I couldn't take Ms. Khloe Anderson out of my mind. I was the least bit pleased that she'd agreed to stay with that guy. I couldn't un-see how he'd looked at her when he opened the door. I was about to ask her to stay over at my place, but when she heard my name, I saw her expression change from one of happiness to a scowl. She wasn't entirely pleased with my presence. She'd probably heard about me.

So my day was anything but great. Whenever I tried to take a nap, I would see her brown hair and those green piercing eyes. That lovely smile.

I silently cursed. I'd only known the girl for a few hours- in person, and I was acting like she's the only girl left in the world.

"Hey, I was thinking," Chris' voice broke into my thoughts. Turning my gaze towards him, I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "How did Dave and his men know where to find Khloe, even to the point of getting in and out of New York, undetected?"

I stared at him in confusion. "What are you getting at?"

"Someone must have fed them that information." At my continued look of confusion, he explained further. "Someone knew when, where and how to get to her, and when there would be no witnesses. They've probably been following her around for some time. However, she had no idea- no feeling in the back of her mind that she was being watched all this time. What does that say to you?"

Thinking about this, it does sound fishy to me. Dave sent that message, knowing that he would be caught, and that Khloe would be free. However, the only reason he would do this, is if he has a back-up plan. But he's dead. Dead men tells no tale. But an alive one can. At this thought, it led me back to the scene of when Khloe's neighbour opened the door. He was surprised and a little shocked that she came back. He'd tried to play it cool by giving her a hug.

Standing, I rushed to my office down the hall and to the safe where I kept the file on America's most wanted men. Grabbing the worn out folder, I paged through it as I walked back to the living room, and hoping that my assumptions are right, but in some ways wrong as I think of what could happen to Khloe since I'd dropped her off.

Dave Sanchez;

Donald Blackmore;

Elijah Ibarra;

Jack Koch;

Jay Phillip;

I froze. It wasn't the name that had me returning to the previous name. It was rather the photo on the top right corner of the page showing the criminal that had me doing double takes.

Jay Phillip.

The man Khloe had introduced me to as Brad. He'd dyed his hair from red to blond. However, he didn't change his face. If I remember correctly, he did have a scar at the nape of his neck, escaping death by a centimeter when he'd came close to being caught years ago.

If he's-or has been working with Dave, then Khloe's life is in danger. She could be hurt, or worse- dead.

Looking at Chris, I say the two words, "Jay Phillip." I know he understands by the shock and disbelief that crosses his face. "We need to leave. Now."

He nods, and going to the secret compartment where we left guns, I took out two, and silencers if we needed to shoot anyone. I'm not taking any chances. The Jay Phillip I know, is highly dangerous.

As we drove away from the apartment complex, I hoped that he didn't harm Khloe and that we arrived in time to save her from him. I'd taken her to his apartment, basically serving her life on a silver platter. I needed to get her out of there- and fast. I would never forgive myself if something happened to her.

God, save her! 

~**~

Khloe Anderson 

"Dave called me."

My head whipped in the direction his voice came from. Dave had called him. No surprise there. Dave had ordered him to kill me- big problem.

"He knew he wouldn't make it out alive when the army arrived at your location. He was outnumbered." I frowned. Logan had previously told me that there were six men in total when they'd found me. And there had been 12 members including Logan who had rescued me. Adding a few more years of experience, and Dave stood no chance against the Army.

"He didn't inform me about your face though," I froze at the words coming from his mouth. "I'm guessing he slapped you. He has a history of abuse on women."

I didn't answer, or nod- or anything in response. I sat there frozen, and wanting to be anywhere but here at the moment. He has a heart- I knew that detail- or else he would be dead. However, nothing he said, or will- as of now, would have no effect on me. I wouldn't believe him. I couldn't.

"I was angry at what he did to your face. The deal was that he not lay a finger on you. Because believe me or not, you're my friend." I snorted. Friends? His definition of friendship is not one I would brag about. Talk about betrayal. Yet, I knew I shouldn't expect any better. He's what he is. A criminal. The next words he said made me stiffen. "But friendship can't save you now."

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