Chapter 9

I am sitting in the kitchen with Freddie. He's making us breakfast. I swore to keep my distance from everyone; however, Freddie won't take no for answer.

He tells me his purpose is to make sure I have at least one friend in this house. It turns out to be him.

"He is usually gone by 5 am," Freddie says as he cuts onions to put into my omelet. "And why, if I may ask, were you in bed with him?"

He looks at me and grins as he goes to the refrigerator. He then grabs the butter while waiting for my response.

"It's not what you think," I tell him as I shake my head, placing a grape into my mouth, and sit on the black and silver island chair.

"Uh-huh!" He smiles as he opens the lid to the butter and begins looking for a spatula.

"Ryder was screaming in his sleep, Freddie."

Any sane person will check. It's not normal to yell in your sleep. Then again, no one in their right mind checks on their kidnapper to make sure he is okay.

"Oh," Freddie says. He doesn't sound surprised at all.

"Wait, so this is normal? Since when?" I can't believe it! Is everyone okay with him living like that?

"Since forever. I guess since Ryder's parents died, I think. We've known each other since elementary school. It started with insomnia. After his parents were killed, they were upgraded to night terrors."

That sounds about right! After he let his confession slip last night about his folks, I'm not surprised that's the root of his night terrors.

If anything, I feel bad for him. With that tough exterior of his lays an interior as soft as a pillow. "So, how are you entangled in all of this?" I grab my cup of orange juice and take a sip.

Freddie laughs, but I am dead serious. "I'm not tangled in anything, honey. I want to be here! He's my best friend."

His words surprise me. As cruel and cold as Ryder is, I really can't imagine anyone wanting to be around him.

Freddie continues to chop. "In elementary school, I would get picked on by the other kids for being different. I liked boys and was obvious about it. One day, a group of boys decided to pick on me. I, of course, didn't know how to defend myself. I'm a lover, not a fighter, honey! Anywho, Ryder came out of nowhere and kicked all of their asses. My hero!"

Freddie swoons and then immediately exhales. A look of sadness spreads throughout his face. "It happened once a year, every year till about sixth grade. That's the year his folks were murdered, in front of him, no doubt."

"On the last day of school, some kids decide to pick on me in the courtyard. It was the usual three boys and girl pushing me around. The girl was the leader. She punched me right in the face, breaking my nose. Ryder saw it and snapped. No one saw him running towards us."

"He gave the three boys a good tussle and bloody lips. The girl? Beat her to a pulp! Even I was horrified but silently happy. I remember him standing up from repeated blows to her face and looking at me, his fist all bloody. He told me to defend myself. If I couldn't, to stay close to him. He would protect me."

"I instantly fell in love, and we became good friends. You can say I helped him a little with his parent's death, he didn't have any friends, and he helped me with defending myself."

"One night, I was at a sleepover, at his place, and it's the first time I saw the beginning stage of the night terrors. Ryder was living with his grandparents then. He stirred the entire night, and I woke him up. I felt bad. Poor thing was drenched in sweat! I still don't know why I did it, but I mustered up the courage and kissed him. He immediately threw me off of the bed and punched me to the floor. I wasn't mad at him or anything! Poor kid was having nightmares, and I tried to take advantage of him," Freddie says, looking ashamed and clears his throat.

"Anyways, I fell to the floor, nursing a bleeding lip. Ryder handed me a tissue and said I would only ever be his best friend. If I ever tried anything like that again, he'd bury me. I've been with him ever since. Well, except for when I went away to cooking school, and he went off to college. We had always stayed in touch."

"So fast forward a couple of years. I called Ryder and told him I needed a job. He gave me this one, free room and board girl. Excellent pay! I, of course, don't have to cook or clean but I love doing it. He's my only family and we will always take care of one another." Freddie looks around the kitchen and smiles. He puts the knife down and grabs the spatula. "And yes, he told me about the murder for hire, which didn't surprise me at all. The guy was given blow after blow growing up. If this was his way of venting, then so be it!"

"So I turned into an idiot, again. I tried to kiss Ryder when I first moved in with him. Let's just say he wasn't as nice as before."

"What did he do?!" I am so intrigued! I cross my arms and lean closer. This guy is a fountain, spilling all the juicy details. Ryder is clearly an onion.

"Uh, let's see. Ryder slapped me in the face, held me against the wall, and punched me square in the face. He then promised to bury me alongside what was left of his parents."

We both laugh.

"Stop!" I tell him with my mouth wide open.

"I took that lust for him and threw it away real quick, girl," Freddie says as he points to the trash can.

"So he's never been married or anything? No girlfriends?"

I forget entirely Freddie is making us breakfast until he slides the plate in front of me.

He looks up and starts to think. "Not that I know of. And he's certainly never brought them home. I'm sure when he's away, for work, he gets his kicks."

That piques my interest. "Ryder goes away for work?"

"Yeah, don't tell him I told you, but he stalks his victims for days, sometimes weeks, before he strikes. I know that doesn't sound very nice, but it's true. He did the same with you."

Weird that his last statement didn't creep me out. "Well, I guess while I'm here, he won't be leaving. Since I'm his current job and all."

I grab my fork and cut into the omelet.

Freddie turns to the stove. "Maybe,' he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"So what's this other job? He says he runs a company?" I cut into the omelet.

"Believe it or not, he owns Boeing. As in the airplane. Don't tell him I told you!"

"What?" I laugh. "Are you serious? Why has he never been on the news or internet? A man with that much power would leave a trace somewhere." I put a fork full of eggs into my mouth.

Freddie is about to take a bite of his omelet but instead puts the fork down. He then puts his hands on his hips, wearing an expression of shock. "Are you kidding me? Dashing CEO by day, vicious assassin by night. Don't you think someone would've caught onto him by now?"

I think about it—that's reasonable.

"He has a president who runs the company, and that person runs everything by Mr. Forñay."

I look at him, confused.

Freddie notices my puzzling look and smiles."It's Ryder's last name, sweetie."

After a fact-filled breakfast, I head upstairs to get dressed.

I pass by Ryder's room and decide to look around since he's gone. I reach out for the door handle. There isn't one. "Shit! I forgot about this stupid handprint thing," I say out loud.

I walk into my room and head straight to the closet. I wonder if I'll find some nice clothes in here to go out. As I search, I realize there's nothing but autumn clothing.

We are in California, where it's always hot or a little chilly outside. Why would he put warm clothing in here?

I decide on black jeans, a red v-neck t-shirt, and some black flats. I don't want to suffocate outside. After showering, I head back downstairs.

Finding a stack of magazines near the front door, I figure I will wait for Ryder here. I look through the pile of papers and see the L.A. Times.

There, on the bottom right, is a small picture of me. My heart drops as it says to turn to page four. Quickly, I do just that. I begin to read:

"Heiress Samantha Hallowell has been missing for more than three weeks now. No ransom demands have been made thus far. One source from the night of the annual Hallowell Gala said he saw someone carrying a large bag through the kitchen at around 8 pm. When police went to view the security video, none could be found. It appeared someone may have tampered with the video evidence. Samantha's parents, Mr. & Mrs. Hallowell, have put out a fifteen million dollar reward for information leading to their daughter being found."

My parents are looking for me! This is horrible!

I'm sitting here waiting to be taken to lunch by my captor, and they are still searching for me. I'm not even one-hundred percent sure he isn't going to hurt me.

I just sit on a chair and wait for Ryder to come home. Since we ended on such a positive note last night, he will let me go.

Right?