that speck of time. Destroyed. Damaged. Broken. Three things I never wanted to be again came to life in a tiny spark of flint against steel. Thankfully, it didn’t catch fire.
“No, honey, he’s not.” He sucked in a breath and cleared his throat.
“Is he in the hospital?”
Warren sighed low and deep. There was nothing left to say. I knew. I fucking knew it. He was alive, but still gone. The man I loved, the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, the man it took me seven months to break down my walls for, was being held by radical religious terrorists half a world away, and I was here. Sitting at a table in a hotel practically connected to a hospital where my father was fighting to live. My world right now was more fucked up than it ever had been, and I had no idea how to fix it.
“Listen to me, the president and secretary of state are on this. Now, America does not negotiate with terrorists, but we are talking to other officials in Indonesia.”
“Indonesia? Is that where they were when they were filming?” I asked, confused.
“No, they were filming in a very remote area in the northern part of Sri Lanka. The northern part of the island hadn’t had a terrorist attack since 2009, and the military does have a solid presence in the country but not that far north. It’s considered a dangerous area.”
“Why the hell were they filming there if it was dangerous?”
Warren groaned. “Honey, the production team found out about a couple unique spots to shoot a scene, and your guy, he wanted to get the scene just right.”
Goddamn it, Wes. Trying to take on this new role to the nth degree and conquer it. “Stupid,” I gritted through my teeth.
“Well, be that as it may, the team being held includes Weston and Gina DeLuca, the lead actress in the film.”
“Gina DeLuca.” I mumbled, her name alone grating along my nerves.
“They have both of them and four other men. It’s bad, though. Mia, honey, there’s something I need to tell you.” His voice took on a harder edge. The kind that meant I needed to listen and what I was going to hear was going to shake the very ground I walked on.
I swallowed down the fear and waited for him to continue. Max’s hand was warm, sending support and love, and I strangled it with my grip, but he didn’t move a muscle.
“A video was sent to the military and forwarded to us.”
“What’s in the video, Warren?” Shivers of dread rippled along my spine, and I sat up straighter. A knot in my gut twisted so tight I couldn’t do anything but hold my breath.
“In the video, your guy was talking. On his knees, face to face with another crew member. They forced him to say what they wanted.” His voice cut off and a few ragged breaths could be heard.
Tears rippled down my face as if my body knew before my mind that the situation had gone from horrendous to life-shattering. Max tried to wipe the tears away but I shook my head.
Warren cleared his throat and stoically continued. “Uh, he said they wanted to show westerners everywhere what was going to happen to them if they soiled their country with their vile liberal politics and disgusting religious beliefs. Honey, as Wes was talking, a masked man lifted up a machete and cut off the head of one of his crew.”
A sob tore from my lungs. “God, no. No, Jesus, please no!” I screamed.
Max grabbed the phone, put it on speaker, and set it on the table so he could hear.
“What did he say?” Max growled, his protective bear coming out in spades.
“They cut off a crew member’s head in front of Wes!” I cried, the tears pouring like Niagara Falls.
Max’s face turned hard, his lips white as they formed a harsh line. “Get it together, Mia. You need to get it together, darlin’. What else, Mr. Shipley? This is Maxwell Cunningham, her brother. You can speak freely.”
Warren coughed and then proceeded to tell us that the terrorists had traveled by boat with the six hostages to Indonesia, a much larger
“No, honey, he’s not.” He sucked in a breath and cleared his throat.
“Is he in the hospital?”
Warren sighed low and deep. There was nothing left to say. I knew. I fucking knew it. He was alive, but still gone. The man I loved, the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, the man it took me seven months to break down my walls for, was being held by radical religious terrorists half a world away, and I was here. Sitting at a table in a hotel practically connected to a hospital where my father was fighting to live. My world right now was more fucked up than it ever had been, and I had no idea how to fix it.
“Listen to me, the president and secretary of state are on this. Now, America does not negotiate with terrorists, but we are talking to other officials in Indonesia.”
“Indonesia? Is that where they were when they were filming?” I asked, confused.
“No, they were filming in a very remote area in the northern part of Sri Lanka. The northern part of the island hadn’t had a terrorist attack since 2009, and the military does have a solid presence in the country but not that far north. It’s considered a dangerous area.”
“Why the hell were they filming there if it was dangerous?”
Warren groaned. “Honey, the production team found out about a couple unique spots to shoot a scene, and your guy, he wanted to get the scene just right.”
Goddamn it, Wes. Trying to take on this new role to the nth degree and conquer it. “Stupid,” I gritted through my teeth.
“Well, be that as it may, the team being held includes Weston and Gina DeLuca, the lead actress in the film.”
“Gina DeLuca.” I mumbled, her name alone grating along my nerves.
“They have both of them and four other men. It’s bad, though. Mia, honey, there’s something I need to tell you.” His voice took on a harder edge. The kind that meant I needed to listen and what I was going to hear was going to shake the very ground I walked on.
I swallowed down the fear and waited for him to continue. Max’s hand was warm, sending support and love, and I strangled it with my grip, but he didn’t move a muscle.
“A video was sent to the military and forwarded to us.”
“What’s in the video, Warren?” Shivers of dread rippled along my spine, and I sat up straighter. A knot in my gut twisted so tight I couldn’t do anything but hold my breath.
“In the video, your guy was talking. On his knees, face to face with another crew member. They forced him to say what they wanted.” His voice cut off and a few ragged breaths could be heard.
Tears rippled down my face as if my body knew before my mind that the situation had gone from horrendous to life-shattering. Max tried to wipe the tears away but I shook my head.
Warren cleared his throat and stoically continued. “Uh, he said they wanted to show westerners everywhere what was going to happen to them if they soiled their country with their vile liberal politics and disgusting religious beliefs. Honey, as Wes was talking, a masked man lifted up a machete and cut off the head of one of his crew.”
A sob tore from my lungs. “God, no. No, Jesus, please no!” I screamed.
Max grabbed the phone, put it on speaker, and set it on the table so he could hear.
“What did he say?” Max growled, his protective bear coming out in spades.
“They cut off a crew member’s head in front of Wes!” I cried, the tears pouring like Niagara Falls.
Max’s face turned hard, his lips white as they formed a harsh line. “Get it together, Mia. You need to get it together, darlin’. What else, Mr. Shipley? This is Maxwell Cunningham, her brother. You can speak freely.”
Warren coughed and then proceeded to tell us that the terrorists had traveled by boat with the six hostages to Indonesia, a much larger
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