Chapter 4

“What are they doing now?” Cecilia asked Daniel for the tenth time.

The neck of her tank top was so stretched out that the spaghetti strap wouldn’t stay on her shoulder and now lay in the crook of her elbow, exposing her pastel blue bralette underneath. Vivienne wanted to tell her to put on a hoodie or something, but her daughter was now practically glued to Daniel’s side, and she didn’t want to do anything that might drive her even further into his arms. Instead, she sat next to Cecilia and studied the limited view provided by the camera feed from the front gate, while Daniel observed them through the rifle scope. The late afternoon’s failing ochre sunlight poured into the office at a low angle, but the tinting on the windows should have made it difficult for anyone to see inside.

“Same as before,” he said. “They’re just standing around drinking beers.” He rolled off the desk and settled into a low crouch, facing the two women. “I don’t think they’re coming in. Not yet, anyway.”

“What do you mean, not yet?” Vivienne asked.

“I think they’re going to wait until dark before they try anything.”

“Oh god.”

Cecilia covered her mouth and tears brimmed in her eyes. Vivienne moved to put a comforting arm around her, but she fell forward into Daniel’s embrace.

“It’s alright,” he said, cradling her head and caressing her back. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you or your mom, okay?”

Cecilia hiccoughed a sob and sniffled. “You promise?” she cried.

“I promise,” he said and kissed her temple. Vivienne caught his eye and he glared at her. “I have to talk to your mom for a minute. I need you to stay here and keep an eye on those cameras for me until I get back?”

“No, please don’t leave!” Cecilia cried, tightening her grip on his shoulders.

He kissed her again. “I’ll be right in the kitchen with your mom. Don’t worry, Cece. I’m never leaving you, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Staying low, he flicked his hand at Vivienne in a “follow me” gesture and led her into the kitchen. When they got there, he turned suddenly and shoved her against the refrigerator by her throat, squeezing until her face turned red. Before she could scream, he pulled the Smith & Wesson from her waistband and held it up to her face so she could see him flick the safety off with his thumb, then pressed the gun to her temple.

In a low, growling whisper, he said, “You tried to shoot me, you crazy psycho bitch.”

Vivienne’s mind blanked. She didn’t consciously remember doing that, but something told her it was true. All she could really think about at the moment was how a tiny flex of his index fingers would violently end her life in an instant. Her diaphragm spasmed, sending a flutter of exhalations from her nostrils, but she managed to fight back a sniveling whimper. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Y-you slapped me,” she said.

His eyes flared and she regretted saying that. “I slapped you, so you thought it was okay to blow my fucking head off? Does that not seem insane to you?”

She was losing the battle with her emotions. She felt the salty sting of tears in her eyes. Her lips pushed out and her chin trembled. As quickly as he grabbed her, Daniel let her go and stuffed the gun into his waistband.

“Okay, first of all,” he said, sounding oddly detached, “you don’t get to touch a gun ever again. In fact, I don’t even want you touching a sharp knife. You’re too fucking psychotic for that. Got it?”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t want to take orders from a low-paid gardener, but what other choice did she have? He was a trained sniper with eighteen confirmed kills, and the only thing standing between her and her daughter and a dozen armed raiders currently camped outside her front gate. She nodded. He slapped her again. The same, not very hard but extremely degrading slap from before.

“Show some fucking respect for the man keeping you and Cecilia alive,” he said in a chastising tone. “You’re going to address me as ‘sir’ from now on. Understand?”

She looked into his eyes and saw that he wasn’t joking around, even a little bit. “Yes, sir.” Her voice sounded disembodied and robotic.

Daniel nodded. “That’s good. That’s really good.” He reached into one of his cargo pockets for his phone and checked the screen, tsking and shaking his head. “The fucking cell service up here, huh?” He sucked air through his teeth. “Welp, we’re going to make do as best we can. Before I go out of my way and risk my life to save your fat ass, we need to get something else out of the way first.”

Vivienne’s stomach churned as he navigated through the phone’s menu. “What other thing?”

“A little insurance for me.” He held out the phone to her with the video app open. “I need you to make a video for me. It doesn’t need to be very long, but it needs to be convincing.”

Dread tightened her chest and she swallowed hard. “What- what kind of video?” she asked warily.

“One where you give me explicit permission to do whatever the fuck I want to you.”

The blood drained from Vivienne’s face. “W-what?”

“You heard me. You’re going to hold up that phone so that any future judge or jury member can see that it’s you, and you’re going to state loudly and clearly that you, Vivienne Whatever-the-fuck-your-middle-name-is Wentworth, being of sound mind and body, blah blah blah, willingly and happily gives Daniel Moreno permission to do whatever the fuck he wants to you, without any limitations whatsoever. You trust him completely with both your life and your daughter’s life, you fully understand what you’re committing to, and do so eagerly and of your own free will, et cetera, et cetera, you know the drill. Make me believe it, Vivienne. Make the world believe it.”

She shook her head, slowly at first, then violently. “No. No! I’m not doing that! Fuck that!”

She tried to move away from him, but Daniel slammed his hand into the refrigerator door next to her head, blocking her way.

“You don’t get it, Vivienne. You only have two choices. Make the damn video or play hostess to twelve big dudes just itching to visit with you and Cecilia. There is no third option. Now, I can keep them out of this house until help arrives, and I promise to do just that. I’ll keep you and Cecilia safe. All I need from you is a little consideration in return. Make the video, make it believable, and you and your daughter won’t have a thing to worry about. The choice is yours. What’s it going to be?”

On the fourth take, Daniel’s patience wore thin. “Don’t forget to smile this time.”

Vivienne took a deep breath and painted on her best corporate smile, flourishing her hair with a toss of her head. “Hi, this is Vivienne Merritt Wentworth, CEO and Chairwoman of CrediTrust Financial Services, Incorporated. I’m a forty-nine-year-old, high-powered, senior executive worth over two hundred million dollars, so it’s safe to say that if there’s one woman out there who knows exactly what she wants, it’s me.” She grinned into the camera. “I willingly and enthusiastically give Daniel Moreno, the caretaker at my Loveland mountain home, permission to do absolutely anything and everything he wants to me, without any limitations whatsoever. Whatever he wants to do is fine by me. I not only trust him one hundred percent with my life and safety, but I trust him just the same with the life and safety of my sweet, precious daughter, Cecilia.” She arched one of her dark eyebrows. “I want to make it crystal clear so that there are no misunderstandings. I fully comprehend what I’m committing myself to, and I do so eagerly and of my own free will. I’m yours, Daniel. Do with me what you will.”

The moment she pressed the stop button and handed the phone back to Daniel, Vivienne collapsed onto the floor in a heap and hyperventilated sobs to hold back the screaming wail clawing at her throat. Instead, she allowed herself a heaving, wracking cry into her hands.

“Wow, well done,” Daniel said with a chuckle. “You’re an excellent liar, Viv. You even had me convinced. I’m going to go ahead and save this to the cloud, just in case you get cold feet later and try something stupid. There we go. Done and done,” he said with punctuating taps on the screen before putting his phone away. “Alright, enough of the bullshit tears. Get up, Vivienne.” He snapped his fingers. “Come on, let’s go. Up, up, up.”