"Is it done?" Cutler asks.
"Yes sir? Feisty little thing, put up quite a bit of a fight. Little bitch socked me good."
"You didn't hit her back did you?" The other's man is sharp now, worried even. "I believe the instructions were clear on that front."
"I know… I know." He scowls in displeasure. "If it wasn't for that I'd have taught her a lesson believe me. Wanted to wring her pretty neck right then I tell ya. Shut her up good."
"Well you're not going anywhere near her neck…or anywhere else." He says coldly, seeing the unmistakable signs of lust flaring in the other man's eyes.
He was excited at the thought of it.
Cutler throws the bundle of dollar bills across the table carelessly. "For your troubles, now get out of here."
"But you said there's more work to be done."
"Not for you, not with that temper." He says evenly. "I can't work with people who're going to blow their gaskets off and I certainly can't have men like you around a young girl. This is not that kind of a job."
"Oh come on. I brought blondie here in one piece didn't I?" He protests.
"We're done here." The other man says simply, motioning for him to pick up the money.
He picks up the money, and gives him a sneering look. "You're afraid of the old geezer aren't you? A sicker whacko than me if you ask me. What does he want with a girl that age anyway?"
"That's not your concern."
Cutler watches him leave and picks up the phone.
"Sir…"
"Is it done?"
" Yes."
"And you have her? Safe and sound I assume."
"Yes sir."
"Good. Make her comfortable and treat her with care. Absolutely no force of any kind… and no physical harm must come to her under any circumstances. That is not negotiable."
"Yes sir. You want her to be intact for when we begin testing of course."
"Yes. But it's not that Cutler. "She looks so much like her mother…Its extraordinary really." He sighs in a wistful way. "She is my dearest friend's grandchild. She's like family you see. You understand don't you Cutler?"
He nods, not understanding in the slightest.
"Yes, Dr. Bell."
It's a strange sensation that wakes Olivia up that morning. An odd sense of calmness mixed with an inexplicable anxiety.
She turns to Peter, still sleeping next to her, feeling immediately better by the sight of him. Reaching out with her finger, she traces his stubbled cheek gently, a smile pulling at her lips as she thinks of the wonderful soreness in her body from last night,
It's been some time since she's felt quite so… spent. Things had been so busy lately. They hadn't even had the time to eat a proper meal together, let alone do anything else.
Feeling her eyes on him, he opens his eyes.
"Good morning."
"Hmmm… very." He nuzzles her neck as he pulls her closer. "Best yet."
She lets him kiss her, even as she reaches out for her cell phone, sneaking a look at the time.
"Vacation's over." She says in a somewhat disappointed voice, as she looks at the window where the ivory curtains were tinted golden with sunlight.
"Not yet. We have three hours till check out."
"We also have a four hour drive till Boston." She flashes him a little smile, turning on her speed dial, to press the number 2 digit, before Peter stops her.
"You know she's going to hate it if you wake her up this early on a Sunday morning."
"I just want to check up on her." She ignores him. "She can go back to sleep after saying hello."
"Honey Etta's fine." He tells her, prying away the phone from her hands gently. "You can call her after breakfast. She'll be up by then."
"She didn't answer her phone yesterday night." She says giving him a look. "I called her three times."
"That's because she was out at her friend's party. I called her before we went to dinner. And she told me she was going to be there. It was probably loud and she mustn't have heard the phone ring. "
"And she didn't think to return my calls when she saw them?" She shakes her head, unable to shake the uneasy feeling that's sinking into her rapidly "She knows better than that Peter."
"It must have been late." He says closing his eyes. "She's a thoughtful kid and she didn't want to disturb us."
"You always find excuses for her don't you?" She smiles at him helplessly.
"And you worry too much." He mumbles, his lips finding her bare shoulders, as his hands move under the sheet suggestively. "Now how about we make good use of that do not disturb sign on the front door one last time before we get back to real world."
Olivia smiles, thoughts of Etta already melting away as he begins a delectable assault with his lips against her skin.
She'd call later.
"I hope you and your wife enjoyed your stay Mr. Bishop?" The receptionist smiles at him politely as she hands him back the credit card.
"Oh yes. Very much so." He smiles, as he signs on the receipt she hands him, stealing a look at said wife, who at the moment wore a grim expression and a distinct frown on her face, the phone pressed to her ear.
"I know it doesn't seem like it. But trust me we did." He sighs at the receptionist, handing her the slip before walking over to where Olivia stood next their overnight bags.
"You know that's not the look most women whose husbands surprise them with weekend getaways at five star resorts wear. They look happy… grateful even." He bends down to kiss her. "Not that I am expecting the latter."
She smiles against his lips. "I know. I am sorry. It was wonderful and I enjoyed every bit of it. I really did. Its just…."
"Can't get a hold of her huh?" He asks knowingly, as she puts the phone down in frustration. "She's probably still asleep."
"She never sleeps in this late." She shakes her head, lines of worry now clearly showing.
"First time for everything." He shrugs, picking up their bags as he gives her a comforting smile. "Come on, the sooner we hit the road, the sooner you can get home and yell at her."
"This is ridiculous." She huffs, as she eyes the mile long fleet of cars in front of them. "We haven't moved in over forty minutes. Are they even trying to clear the roadblock? I mean don't they realize people have better things to do than to be stuck in traffic."
"Liv…" He reaches out to hold her hand. "You know there's nothing anybody can do. We'll get out when we get out."
She shrugs it away, reaching for her cellphone for the ninth time. "I am calling Astrid."
"So she can fly in a helicopter and airlift us out of here?" He jokes.
"No, so she can swing by the house and check on our very irresponsible daughter." She says blandly, giving him a cross look. Her irritation was building up by the second, all the good mood from the trip evaporating.
"Olivia we're just half an hour away. " He tries to reason with her. "Astrid lives on the other side of town. It's going to take her forever to get to our place and all she's going to find is Etta sitting out on the couch reading or watching TV or something. Let's not bother her on a Sunday afternoon."
"Peter it's been over fifteen hours since I've heard from her. She's not answering her cellphone or the landline." She says looking at him with a concerned expression.
"I am sure there's an explanation." He smiles at her, unable to quell the anxiety, her voice triggers in her. "Look the traffic's beginning to move a little. We should be there soon."
It's another forty minutes before they can get home, by which time Olivia's anxiety has spiked to a level that would seem entirely unreasonable to anybody else. She literally exhales in relief, almost jumping out of the car the moment Peter pulls into their driveway.
He shakes his head but lets her go and follows in after parking the car in the garage and fetching their bags from the back.
"Etta, you're in big trouble young lady." He bellows in a mock angry voice when he walks into the kitchen. "Get your butt down here before your mom has an aneurism."
He waits for a second or two to hear his daughter's cheerful voice making its way down the stairs, or for the sound of Olivia's stern words. But all he hears is silence. After stealing a look into the empty living room, he makes his way upstairs to Etta's bedroom, hoping to find them both there.
All he finds is Olivia sitting on the bed, clutching what he recognized as his daughter's cellphone in her hands. Her face is pale, white as a sheet, voice trembling with what was unmistakably fear, as she holds the phone in her outstretched palm. "Her bed hasn't been slept in and her phone's here. And she wouldn't go to a party without her phone would she? And even if she somehow forget, she'd come back and get it wouldn't she? She'd have to have come home sometime in the night …."
"Liv where's Etta?"
"I knew something terrible had happened." She shakes her head. "I just knew it." She looks at him then, her expression crumbling in defeat.
"Liv…."
Her voice is nothing more than a broken whisper.
"She's gone Peter."