Blind Trust Page 6

  After a few more moments she turned to him and held out her hand. “Let’s walk.”

  He took her hand and pulled her close. With his other hand, he brushed the hair from her face then cupped her cheek.

  Her smile deepened.

  He ran his thumb across her lips, brushing them. A light stroke.

  Her lips parted.

  He leaned in, sure of the moment, and brushed her lips with his. Not yet a kiss, but a light brushing, tentative yet sure.

  Cecelia reveled in all the sensations she felt. The sand beneath her, the water around her feet. The ocean breezes. The touch of his hand, holding hers.

  Then he stopped on the sand and pulled her close to kiss her. First, his thumb brushing her lips and making them tingle, bringing all her senses more alive. Then his lips brushing hers, ever so gently.

  His breath carried whispers of the warm minty scent of the breath mint he’d had earlier, after they’d eaten.

  She wanted to taste him. Her lips opened, just enough to invite him in.

  His lips brushing hers, increased pressure, and the tip of his tongue touched her lips, tickling, teasing, and then easing inside to touch the tip of her tongue.

  Her breath hitched as she was caught up in new sensations and the feel and taste of his tongue.

  Her hands moved up his shoulders and around to the back of his neck, holding on to him as his kiss threatened to sweep her away into overwhelming sensations, much like the ocean would have swept her away had she waded deep enough.

  She waded deeper into their kiss.

  It was a kiss as deep and sweeping as the sea, as soft and loving as the breeze, and as steady as the rocks along the shore. More memorable than anything either of them had done before.

  For it was a soulmate’s kiss, and down deep in their souls, they knew this was a true love’s kiss.

  Chapter 6

  The next day, when Brian picked up Cecelia to take her to the hospital, he realized she had a glow she hadn’t carried before.

  It was a glow of deep happiness, and he was pretty sure he knew what had put it there.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked, hoping for a positive answer, and he was pleased when she smiled.

  “Yes, I slept all night and didn’t have one nightmare. I had a very nice dream instead.”

  “You did?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Going to tell me about it?”

  “No, not this time,” she said, with a blush and a smile.

  Oh ho, one of those kinds of dreams, he thought, and smiled to himself. I can just imagine. “That’s okay. You don’t need to tell me. I’m glad you had a good one and hope that continues.”

  “Me, too,” she said.

  They picked up breakfast at a drive through, then drove on to the hospital, as he needed to drop her there and then go to his appointment.

  He rode up the elevator to Sam’s hospital room with her, saw that she was settled in a chair to visit, and then after telling them both goodbye, he hurried to his truck.

  The sooner he took care of all his business, the sooner he could get back to his new girlfriend. He couldn’t wait to spend more time with her and was going to ask her where she would like to go for dinner tonight.

  While Cecelia was visiting Sam, and Brian had gone back to the base for his appointment, the fire alarm went off in the hallway outside Sam’s hospital room.

  Cecelia jumped. “What’s that?” she said. “Is there a fire? What’s going on?”

  “The fire alarms are going off,” Sam said. “I can see one flashing. But I don’t see any smoke or fire. I’ll call the nurse.”

  Someone entered the room and a man’s voice said, “No, don’t call. Everyone will be calling the nurses’ station. They’re busy. The nurses can’t be everywhere.”

  His hand closed over Cecelia’s arm. “Come with me,” he said in a calm voice.

  “Who are you?” she asked, her voice rising in fear.

  “I’m a doctor,” he said.

  “It’s okay,” Sam said. “He’s a doctor. Go with him.”

  “What about you?” Cecelia asked, looking toward Sam. She put her hand on the doctor’s arm. “We need to get her out of here!”

  The man put pressure on her arm, urging her away, toward the door. “The orderly is coming with a gurney to get your friend, and he’ll take her out. Come with me. We have to take the stairs, and I’ll help you down them.”

  She let the doctor guide her into the hall, where people were hurrying, and voices were coming from all over the floor. It sounded like pandemonium, and she couldn’t see people or tell which way he was leading her, as they dodged in and out between people who were hurrying to get out.

  They moved down the hall and to a stairwell where he held open the door with one hand and pulled her with the other, saying, “Come on.”

  Someone came up behind them. “Don’t block the door,” the woman said. “Let us out.”

  “I don’t have my cane,” Cecelia said, just as she realized she’d left her cane in the room.

  “You don’t need it,” the doctor said. “I’m going to help you down the stairs.” He pulled her through the doorway. “Come on, we need to keep moving and not block these people. Hold on to the railing.”

  She put her hand on the railing, and started carefully stepping down each step, with him holding onto her other arm, urging her down the stairs.

  He spoke encouraging words to her, as she found each step with her foot, but it felt like it was taking forever, and they had four flights to go down.

  She felt bad about being so slow and holding people up who wanted out so badly.

  Many other people were taking the stairs, which got more and more crowded as they descended. Some people pushed past them, and others were more polite. Everyone was in a hurry to get out of the building.

  She worried about Sam and hoped the person with the gurney had already taken her out.

  Finally, they were on the bottom floor, and he helped her through the lobby and outside.

  The breeze on her face was a relief, and she took a deep breath of fresh air.

  She hadn’t smelled any smoke on the way down, so that was good. She hoped they got all the patients out and wondered where they’d be taking Sam.

  The doctor who’d helped her was still there, and he said, “Here, they’re starting to move the gurneys out and need room.” He pulled on her arm again. “We have to move out of the way.”

  Listening to him and letting him move her away from where people milled about, she went with him to a quieter area.

  He said, “I see an empty bench over there. Come on, I’ll get you seated, and then you’ll have to wait while I go help get the others out.”

  She moved where he wanted her to, and then he let go of her and stepped away.

  Cecelia turned her head right and then left, listening. The only thing she heard was traffic.

  Where am I? Where did he go? And where was that bench he was talking about?

  She reached out her hands and found only air.

  Now what?

  She needed her cane. And it was too quiet here. There were no people that she could hear. There was only traffic.

  “Hello?” she called, not even knowing the doctor’s name.

  In their hurry to get out of the building, she hadn’t thought to ask.

  No one answered, but a vehicle pulled up near her. She reached out with her foot, trying to feel where the curb was, as the vehicle sounded close.

  Someone stepped behind her.

  Suddenly, a man’s hand was on her mouth, holding duct tape, sticky and thick.

  No!

  Another man wrapped his arms around hers, holding her so she couldn’t move.

  The duct tape was slapped down over her mouth by the first man, and pressed hard onto her lips, to keep her mouth closed.

  She could still breathe through her nose, but now she started to hyperventilate, fast.

  What’s happening? Who
was that man who helped me out of the hospital? Where did he go? Who are these men?

  She heard a van door slide open.

  What can I do?

  She tried to turn right and left to get free, but the man holding her arms was too strong. Hands grabbed her, pulling her into the van.

  She kicked her legs, trying to fight, but her legs were then grabbed by strong hands, and she was manhandled all the way into the van.

  The van door slid closed, slamming as her heart beat fast in her chest. Ropes were tied around her wrists and ankles. She tried to fight, but they were too strong.

  Where are they taking me? What do they want with me? How will Brian find me?

  She hadn’t had time to press the pendant to alert Brian that she needed him. And she needed him more than ever, now.

  Cecelia brought her bound wrists up, curling into herself, and they didn’t stop her. Pressing against her chest, where the pendant lay between her breasts, she hoped she’d activated the pendant tracking device.

  Her arms were grabbed and forced down again as they held her down.

  The pinprick of a needle going into her arm made her breathe in sharply.

  Then everything in her world went black.

  Brian wasn’t back from his appointment at the Naval base, when the tracking device on his phone went off.

  Cecelia needed him.

  He needed to get back.

  Brian hurried to his truck and headed for the hospital.

  When he stepped into the hospital elevator and pressed the elevator buttons, the braille panels reminded him of Cecelia.

  In the elevator, riding up, one of the female passengers said, “I’m glad there wasn’t really a fire. Can you imagine trying to move all these patients?”

  Her girlfriend said, “I know. How would they get them all out fast enough?”

  He went on alert the moment the first woman said “fire.” He looked at them and said, “There was a fire alarm?”

  “Yes. You must’ve missed it,” the first woman said. “This was a couple of hours ago.”

  He took out his cell phone and double checked it.

  No messages.

  Cecelia hadn’t messaged. He’d heard nothing from about a fire. And she was afraid of fires. Had nightmares about them. It didn’t seem like her not to call or text him, to tell him about the fire alarms going off.

  Something was wrong.

  He had a bad feeling about this. A gut feeling.

  Had she left the hospital when the fire alarm went off on her own? Or had she gone with someone else?

  His gut was telling him she’d been taken. But he had to double check with her cousin.

  The two women got off on the third floor as he impatiently waited for the fourth floor.

  He needed to see Cecelia now and to know she was okay.

  The doors opened, and he hurried to Sam’s room.

  Cecelia wasn’t in the room. But her cane was leaning against the wall. He frowned when he saw it.

  Sam was looking at him quizzically.

  They both spoke at once. “Where’s Cecelia?”

  “She’s not with you?” Sam asked, her face showing concern.

  “No,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”

  “There was a fire alarm, and people started going outside,” she said. “She left with one of the doctors.”

  “What did he look like?” Brian pulled out his phone to check the tracking device.

  The tracking device was still working. Still turned on.

  She’d been taken and there was no point in searching the hospital.

  The device showed she was already gone from the building.

  “She’s not here and my app notified me she wasn’t here, soon after she was away from the hospital,” he said then glanced at Sam.

  “Oh no,” Sam said. “What’s happened to her?”

  “I can track her and I’m going to find her.” Without another word, he was out the door, intent on following the GPS as it showed movement.

  At the elevator, he punched the button and impatiently waited for the doors to open.

  When they opened, he stepped in, and once the doors opened on the ground floor, he left at a run.

  Getting in his truck, he started in the direction she’d gone, following that path.

  They had headed for Mexico. The Mexican border was only thirty minutes from the hospital.

  They’d moved her over the border. She was in Mexico.

  Fast and easy to get in, she’d now be in Mexico with only her driver’s license. If she still had her driver’s license on her. They might have taken it away.

  Did she even own a passport? Had she ever left the country? Did she want to travel outside the United States?

  So many questions he hadn’t been able to ask her yet. They were still getting to know each other.

  He doubted she had traveled much, if at all.

  She’d never left Three C’s Ranch since she’d started working there to go anywhere other than an appointment in town.

  She’ll be terrified right now, and have no idea where she was being taken, or for what reason.

  Mexico was close. So quick and easy to take her over the border.

  Damn it.

  A pretty silver haired woman who was blind was a soft target.

  She’d caught the eye of someone who wanted her, and they’d taken her. This kind of thing happened every day. More than people realized. But not to his girl.

  They’d taken the wrong woman.

  He would make every one of these assholes wish they’d never laid eyes on her.

  But first, he had to find her.

  Was Mexico even their final destination?

  I need to find her fast and get her out.

  Chapter 7

  Cecelia stood, somewhat groggily, from whatever they’d injected her with to knock her out. She had no idea where she was but sensed no one was with her.

  It was too quiet. So quiet she could hear her own breathing.

  She moved forward, her hands held out in front of her to touch and feel what was around her. She found the rusty metal door they’d brought her through.

  She remembered the clang of the metal door closing and the sound of a lock after they’d thrown her into the room, dazed and just waking up for the shot. Too dizzy and disoriented to even stand up by herself.

  Now, she could stand and walk but was still woozy.

  She felt her way around, looking for something, anything that would help her get out. Her fingers moved from the metal door to the wall on the right and across the wall, helping her to “look.”

  The wall felt bumpy, sandpapery, like rough concrete beneath her fingers. It was like touching a driveway, which made her situation even more surreal to her, this rough surface being the material of the wall, not a floor or driveway.

  Where am I? Still in San Diego?

  No.

  There were voices. Speaking Spanish. Was she in Mexico? Mexico wasn’t that far.

  Oh God. I’m in Mexico. They’ve taken me out of the country.

  Her stomach dropped, and she nearly gagged at the stink of the room when she turned to the next wall and the strong smell of urine wafted up from the ground there. A fly buzzed near her ear, and she waved at it, shooing it away.

  She wished she could see her feet, to know if she might be stepping in something. But maybe it was better she couldn’t see when the stench was so bad—here, where people had obviously relieved themselves. At least, she was still wearing her tennis shoes and not sandals.

  Mexico. I’m in Mexico. He’ll never find me here.

  Her heart sank.

  She found no window on the first wall with the door and none on the second to the right. Now, she moved along the third wall and felt a slight breeze, quickly gone, as if it had never been there.

  Sounds came from up high. A window. She reached her hands up, as high as she could reach.

  The window was too high for her to reach touch even a sill, i
f it had one.

  The room was hot.

  Her jeans were sticking to her as if they’d been painted on, and her T-shirt was wet with sweat. Another drop of sweat rolled down her back, beneath the waistband of her jeans.

  How thirsty she was.

  This room is not just hot, it is sweltering, and the drug they gave me is wearing off.

  All her senses were fully waking up. Maybe that was not such a good thing in circumstances like these.

  She found nothing on the fourth wall, and now she was back to the wall with the door.

  This small room, no more than eight foot by ten foot was now her prison, with one door and a window that did barely anything to help with the heat.

  Is there water? I need water.

  She realized she was dehydrated.

  Next, she dropped down onto her hands and knees to search the floor, in case there was water there, somewhere.

  Even a dog would be given a water bowl.

  A dirt floor. Where the hell am I? Mexico somewhere, but where? How will anyone find me here?

  The floor was dirt; there was no water. There was nothing else in the room, except a mattress on the floor. A stinky mattress she moved away from, into the center of the room.

  She wrapped her arms around her knees, squatting on the ground, and began to cry.

  I am in hell. The heat, the stink. I am in hell, and there are bad men here who are going to harm me. Maybe soon. Please God, get me out of here somehow. Please send Brian for me.

  Then it came to her.

  The pendant.

  In her groggy, drugged state she had forgotten about the pendant. She’d pressed it once before they’d injected her.

  Brian had made a plan if something were to happen to her. He’d prepared for this, and she’d forgotten.

  Now that she remembered, she started pressing it frantically, over and over, praying that it still worked, crying as tears began to stream down her face.

  Brian was driving and following the GPS movements on his phone while trying not to get pulled over for speeding. The clock was ticking, and there was no way in hell he was following the speed limit.

  I have to get to Cecelia before something even worse than being kidnapped happens.