Chapter 9 The Therapist

• Eloise stood before the heavy wooden door to Pierce’s office and admired the doorknob. It looks like a handle from an old sword. Three iron pieces curl around your hand when you grasp it. She knew she couldn’t stall any longer and knocked gently.
• “Come in,” she heard him say harshly, and her hand retreated from the handle. She hated how scared those bastards made her. Her mother would be heartbroken to see her once full-of-fire daughter acting like a burned-out wick.
• The door bursts open. “Yohan!” he barked, stopping abruptly when he saw her. “Oh, Eloise, I’m sorry. I’ve been waiting for someone.” He stepped to the side and glanced at his watch. “Is it four already? Please come in, have a seat.”
• Eloise moved inside, taking in his office. His desk stands in front of a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the stables and part of the lake. The decor is like most of the rest of the house, with its fireplace and couch. Two rifles hang on the wall. She noted these almost subconsciously while her attention was immediately drawn to the flat-screen TV on one wall tuned to a Los Angeles news channel.
• She felt Pierce’s gaze on her, but he remains silent. She caught the date from the news anchor—October 18th. She gasped and tried to rationalize this date with the day she was taken.
• “Yes, they had you a little over several months, Eloise,” he said softly, answering her unspoken question.
• She felt the tears welling up. For some reason, knowing the actual amount of time is soul-shattering. It solves the nagging question that’s been eating away at her, and now that she knew, she was reeling in shock. Her hand flew to her chest.
• “Please, take a seat.” He reached for her arm and gently guided her over to the couch. He sat across from her, watching her closely. Once she got hold of herself, he began to speak.
• “A lot has gone on since you’ve been missing, Eloise. I’m sure you have many questions, mainly about why you’re here and why you were taken.”
• Eloise nodded.
• “The men who took you are not just regular kidnappers. They’re part of a dangerous group called Los Secuaces Del Diablo, which means The Devil’s Minions. They are a part of the Cartels and had you hidden well in Tijuana.”
• ‘Holy crap!’
• “Your father—”
• She sat up straighter when she heard his name.
• ‘Is he here? When will she be able to see him?’
• Again, nothing comes out.
• He raises a hand. “Your father has been making a media storm from your kidnapping.”
• Great…more unwanted publicity.
• “Problem is, Eloise, the two main guys.” He holds up a picture. “Marc Rossi.” A lump grows in my throat—the Montecristo smoker. He holds up another photograph. “And Valentino—”
• Eloise’s stomach lurches violently. She desperately grabbed the closest trash can and heaved bile into it. She sensed Pierce behind her as he handed her a napkin and set a glass of water beside her. She washed out her mouth and sat back on the couch, unable to look him in the eye. She felt embarrassed about her reaction and his poor office being used like a bathroom.
• “I’ll take it you recognize Valentino?”
• Eloise nodded again, fighting the urge to scream. Yes, the bastard made her beg for her meals, whipped her back until it was raw, and took every shred of human dignity away from her!
• Pierce handed her a clean napkin—she didn’t even notice she had started crying. “I was going to tell you that both of them managed to elude capture.”
• Her gaze shoots up in horror.
• He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “I know, and I’m sorry, but you need to stay here until we know where they are and take them into custody. Your family, friends, nobody knows you’re safe yet. That’s how we must keep it for their sake as much as yours. It will only be a matter of time before Los Secuases Del Diablo and the rest of the Cartels find out who rescued you, and when they do, the hunt will resume in earnest. You’re worth a lot to them, and I’m sure they’re pretty pissed that you’re gone.”
• Eloise stood, shaking her head, unsure what to do with herself. A knock sounds at the door, and Yohan, the ass from last night, comes in, holding up his hands.
• “Sorry, sorry, been a busy day—” He caught sight of her. “Hello again, pretty girl.” His voice is like velvet.
• ‘Screw you, asshole.’
• “Yohan,” Pierce spits out, “take this and deal with it.”
• Yohan grabbed the file from Pierce’s hand and left, but not before giving her a wink.
• Pierce stands in front of her. He is much taller; she only came up to his chin. “You don’t have to stay. It’s your right to leave, but we cannot protect you if you do. I give it one week before you’re snatched up again and disappear. It took us five months to locate you the last time, and we’re the best.” He glances at his watch again, and his jaw tenses. “I have a video conference shortly, but tomorrow you have a meeting at oh-eight-hundred with Dr. Brown. He’s our resident therapist, and you must attend.”
• ‘Hell no!’
• He crosses his arms, sensing her change in mood. “Mandatory,” he repeated. “Anna will see you make it there on time. For now, if you need anything, go to her. She’ll be your aide. Feel free to use anything in the house, and know that the house is under constant watch for everyone’s safety.
• Of course, the bedrooms and bathrooms are not under video surveillance, but the windows and doors all have sensors so we can keep track of who is coming and going. Please understand that using phones to call outside of this area is strictly prohibited, as is using the Internet for communication.
• We’ve worked extremely hard to keep this place secret. Only a select few know its location, and they know the consequences if they should ever reveal it. I’ll give you a week to decide if you want to stay, and if so, we’ll talk more about the rules.” He moved to sit behind his desk. “Any questions?”
• ‘Yes, about a billion.’
• Eloise shook her head and walked back out the door, closing it behind her. There is so much to take in; her mind is reeling. She needed to get back to her room and think.
• Is she ready to live like this? Trade one prison for another, however posh? Or does she go home and take a chance and risk it all?
• Dr. Brown is a tall, skinny man with blond hair in his mid-fifties. His hazel eyes look warm against his crisp navy suit, the thin tie resting over his belt buckle. He repeatedly taps his right heel against the floor while he thinks.
• They are in a small room next to Pierce’s office. The color scheme is yellow and shades of green. It is quite pretty.
• “Not much of a talker?” Dr. Brown asked, trying to lighten the mood.
• They’ve been staring at one another for the past forty-five minutes. When she first arrived, he asked a few questions, but when she didn’t respond, he just watched her behavior as she did his. She knew he would go with a shock question to get a response out of her. She could practically smell the smoke from his brain gears turning.
• “What’s your feeling on Valentino Marquez?”
• Eloise didn’t flinch.
• He nodded and continued scribbling on his tablet. “Eloise, would you like to go home?”
• ‘Ah, the follow-up shocker question. Nice one, Doc. I’ve got to hand it to you.’
• Using family would have cracked her at one time, but not now.
• He leaned forward, setting his tablet on the table. “Well, I guess we won’t accomplish anything here today.” He removed his thick-framed glasses and rubbed his eyes, sighing. “If you don’t let people in, Eloise, how can we help you? Aren’t you tired of being alone?”