LUCY
The jet was landing,and Lucy seized her chance. She knew it was the only chance she was likely to get.
She had spent the flight tied up and locked in a storage compartment, while her uncle's personal jet bumped and bounced its way from a private landing field in France towards an unknown destination that could be anywhere from New York to Brazil to, for all she knew, Timbuktu or Hong Kong.
She had no idea how long it had actually been, because she didn't have a watch or phone to tell time, but it had been long enough for her to sleep for a while. Hours, definitely.
During the first part of the trip, she had been too out of it from whatever her uncle's men had dosed her with to think. After it wore off, she spent some time kicking the door, and then she spent some time crying. Then she stopped crying and started thinking.
Okay, I refused to sign the papers and he realized that he can't keep me locked up forever. So he's decided to take me somewhere. But where? And why?
All the answers she came up with were bad ones.
"Hey!" she yelled. She doubled up with her legs pulled up to her chest and then lashed out, slamming them into the door. "Hey! I have to pee!"
She kicked and yelled some more, and finally a voice from outside said, "Shut up in there!"
"I have to pee! Do you want to deal with that?" She waited a moment, and then tried: "Andy?" He was the only one of her uncle's hired muscle who was sometimes nice to her. "Andy, are you there? Can I please come out? Just for a little while. I need to use the bathroom."
The jet bumped under her again. She could tell they were descending. Her ears popped.
Then the door opened, and light flooded into the compartment. Lucy squinted at the shape framed against the too-bright light. A moment later, a big hand on her arm helped her up.
She had to swallow tears. She hadn't thought one more betrayal would hurt her so much, but she had really hoped Andy wasn't involved.
"Just for a minute, Miss Copeland." His big, square face was apologetic. "We're landing soon."
"Andy, please," she begged him. "Please help me."
"I'm sorry, miss." He averted his eyes as if he couldn't even bear to look at her. "I can't do anything."
"Why not?" she asked as he bent down to untie her feet so she could walk. Behind him, there were three other men sitting at the table in the back of the private jet with drinks in their hands. None of them seemed worried about her getting away—but of course, there was nowhere to go. "My uncle doesn't own you. Any of you!" she added, pitching her voice so the other men could hear her. They just snorted and seemed amused by her defiance.
"You don't understand," Andy murmured. "We don't have a choice."
Lucy looked down at the top of his head, where his pink scalp showed through his crew cut as he untied her feet. Like all her uncle's hirelings, Andy was an extremely large guy with a general impression of suppressed feralness—but he was nicer than most, at least. The resigned misery in his voice surprised her. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"Hey, hurry it up," one of the others said from the table. He was her uncle's right-hand man, a lumpish bruiser named Hendricks. "We're going to be on the ground soon. Don't take all day."
"Sorry," Andy muttered, but his hand captured her elbow in a firm grip and steered her forward. Her heart sank; it was clear that no help would be coming from his direction. "Bathroom's this way."
"I know where the bathroom is," Lucy said tartly. "This plane used to belong to my parents, remember? I've been taking trips in it since I was a kid."
She tried to get a look out the window, but all she could see were clouds and snatches of blue sky streaming past. She couldn't even tell if they were over land or sea, although they were definitely descending. Then Andy firmly steered her into the lavatory.
"You have to untie my hands so I can do, you know, things," she pointed out.
Andy turned her around and untied her. As soon as she was free, she shut the door and locked it.
She felt a little less woebegone now that she had her hands free and didn't have to look at them—but only a little. Seeing herself in the mirror, she winced at the wreckage of her crying jag and struggles to escape the compartment. She dabbed a paper towel under the faucet and wiped her hot face, soothing herself somewhat. Drinking a few palmfuls of metallic-tasting water made her feel better yet. Her headache from the drugs was fading. She felt like she could move fast if she had to.
The jet lurched under her feet with the distinctive series of thumps that meant the landing gear was coming down. There was a tentative knock at the door. "Miss Copeland?" Andy said. "We're landing soon. You need to come out now."
"Stop calling me Miss Copeland when you're kidnapping me!" Lucy yelled through the door.
She looked wildly around the small space. Although it was a fancy private jet, the bathroom was similar to any airplane lavatory on a commercial flight. Tiny toilet, tiny sink. There was certainly no handle marked EMERGENCY EXIT, PULL IN CASE OF KIDNAPPING.
Flying in on a private jet meant they didn't have to go through regular airport security, but there would certainly be a customs check at some point, regardless of where they had landed.Maybe I can ask them for help?Lucy thought, but then her heart sank to her feet. As soon as she started trying to explain the situation, they would just take her back to her uncle, and probably think she was crazy too.