Chapter Sixteen

A.N. Hi. This was a very hard chapter to write, though I have had it planned since the beginning. I struggled through it and did end up cutting it short because it was making me feel physically ill. I didn't edit much, so I apologize if it's not as clean as previous chapters. MASSIVE TW for kidnapping, both physical and sexual abuse. If you don't think you can handle those themes, please do not feel the need to continue this story. I tried not to be too descriptive, but it's still extremely fucked. Also my Spanish is very rusty, so please excuse any translation issues. I'm more than open to critique if any Spanish speakers find errors.

She was going on a date. A date with Javier Peña.

How that had even become a reality was inconceivable whilst simultaneously being entirely inevitable. They had been dancing around the unavoidable truth for months... their deal had never really been legitimate, it had just been an excuse for the two of them to live within some false sense of detachment, continue their shared history of evasive bullshit. All while they clung to each other like they needed each other to survive.

She had no idea how she was going to get through her shift. There was a tight, shifting knot of anxious excitement knocking around her gut, surging up into her chest every few minutes. Javier was going to pick her up from her apartment at seven o' clock. She had two more hours of serving drinks (mostly to Nick, as there wasn't really anyone else in the bar on a Thursday afternoon) and then an hour to get home and get ready, wash the smell of beer off of her skin, change into something date appropriate.

She wasn't sure why she was so nervous. She'd been in Javier's presence-- more often than not, with him actually inside of her-- almost every day for the last eight months. Maybe it wasn't him that was making her nervous, it was just the concept of a date. She hadn't been on one of those in ages, not since before Robert, had never even considered it after him. But when Javier asked her, she'd felt her entire core go all liquid and warm. She couldn't imagine a scenario in which she would have said no to him.

"What are you so giddy about today, hon?" Nick asked, leaning over the countertop toward Emma, who was staring off across the bar, a grin plastered to her face that she hadn't been able to knock all afternoon.

"Hmm?" She turned her attention toward him, shaking her head, her smile only fading just slightly, "Oh, nothing."

"Sure." He murmured around the rim of his pint glass. "I don't normally see you this happy when your little boyfriend isn't here."

"He isn't my boyfriend." She retorted, but her voice wasn't nearly as convincing as it normally was.

He wasn't... but he was... something.

"Whatever you say." Nick crooned, his chapped lips cracking into a grin.

Emma huffed, about to begin slicing a couple limes when the phone in the back room started to ring. She immediately turned, pushing through the door, and jogging to the desk in the corner. The only person who ever called was Martin. A stinging bout of nerves in her gut rose as she hoped it wouldn't be him calling to ask her to stay late.

She picked up the receiver and held it to her ear, "Fireside bar, Emma speaking." She recited, just like Martin liked.

"Chiquita." His low baritone vibrated through the phone and nearly made her drop it as her heart began manically fluttering in her chest.

"How did you even--" She started before he interrupted her.

"Yellow pages." He answered her unspoken inquiry. "Checking for cold feet." His voice tensed a bit and Emma felt her stomach cramp up.

"None to be found here." She assured, twisting the cord around her first finger.

"Good." He hummed. "I'm not going to lie to you, it's been very difficult for me to not just walk down the street and watch you work all afternoon."

The smile she'd been wearing all day widened, "Already miss me, Javier? I was in your bed like four hours ago."

"Yes." He stated, far more serious than her teasing warranted, "Always miss you."

Her heart stuttered and cramped, but she teased him, nonetheless. "Patience is a virtue, Javi."

"One I do not possess, Em."

She let out a little giggle that made him palm at his chest like he could feel his heart swelling.

"So, I'll see you at seven?" She asked, her voice lilting.

"Sharp." He added.

"Seven sharp." She reiterated, biting down on her bottom lip as she continued twisting the cord around her finger. "Bye Javi."

"See you soon, mi amor." His voice rumbled before she heard the receiver click on his end and the line went dead.

Mi amor.

She set the phone down, standing there for a moment while her heart raced before she was able to walk back out into the bar.

__________

He stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself, adjusting the tie around his neck, which felt strange and foreign and perhaps a tad too tight. He hadn't worn one since leaving Columbia, hadn't thought he would ever again, unless he was attending a funeral or a wedding, not that he got invited to many of either.

He knew he didn't need to wear a tie for Emma, but he wanted to, wanted to do this right. He'd even walked down to a little flower shop on the corner of 19th and Quintara to pick up a bouquet of yellow and white flowers. The last time he'd bought flowers was on prom night, only because of his pop's insistence.

"You can't show up without a corsage, hijo, you're going to make me look bad."

But he wanted to get her flowers, wanted to see her pretty face light up when he handed them to her. All of this was unfamiliar and alien to him, but in the same it felt natural, like there was no other being on Earth that could possibly bring out this side of him. Just her, his chiquita...

He was going to ask her to be his girlfriend today, which felt trite and far too casual and perhaps a bit immature for his old fucking age, but it was the only term that made any kind of societal sense. He certainly couldn't ask her to marry him... not yet.

He was going to tell her that her eyes reminded him of home.

He was going to tell her that he was going to be better, do better, right himself so that he deserved her in all her sweet, delicate perfection.

He was going to tell her that he loved her...? Maybe, but perhaps that was too much, too fast, more than a first date allowed.

He was going to confess more of his sins and kneel at her feet and hope that she would forgive him.

What in the hell had gotten into him?

Grumpy Javier Peña was fucking soft.

Better he be soft than the hard, broken shell Columbia had morphed him into, he thought as he ruffled his hair a bit, trying to part it so it didn't hang down in his eyes. He needed a haircut, if his mother could see him now, she would have swatted at him, made him sit down on the porch while she ran into the bathroom for her scissors.

His mother would have loved Emma. He was sure of that. She would have admired her stubborn demeanor, definitely would have said something along the lines of, "Finally mijo, a woman who can put you in your place." She would have taken Emma along with her to all her Tupperware parties, and the dances put on at the community center, she would've sat down and taught Emma Spanish insults that she could use against him when he was being an ass.

His heart ached with memories that would never be made, pinched with the deep grief of missing her, of knowing that not only could Emma never meet his mother, but he would never meet her parents either.

But that was okay, he reminded himself with a kind of bereft acceptance. She could still meet Chucho, who would also adore her, would be giddy with relief at the fact that his son had finally settled down with an admirable woman. And they could make their own family if that's what she wanted. He would be more than happy to fuck a baby into her, two babies, four. A little tribe of Peñas that he hoped would have their mother's eyes, her goodness.

He fiddled with his tie a bit more then turned and exited the bathroom, swiping up his keys, wallet, and the bouquet of flowers as he walked out the door.

__________

Emma had just finished zipping up her dress when a knock at the door echoed through her apartment. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sound, that thudding anxious excitement that had been swirling around in her core all day breaking open and making her limbs feel light and slightly numb.

"One second!" She called out, turning back to the mirror and ruffling her hair.

She was too excited to realize that the knock at the door wasn't those three steady thumps that were associated with Javier's arrival.

She was too eager to realize it was only 6:45.

She let out a deep exhale, watching herself smile in the reflection before she turned around, scampering her way toward the door, the light material of her dress fluttering around her knees.

She didn't look through the peephole. No one knocked on her door besides Javier, her landlord, and the occasional door-to-door salesman, she just clicked the lock and tugged the door open, the smile on her face quickly fading as she took in the two unfamiliar men standing at her doorstep.

"Oh... I-- how can I help--" She started before the taller one of the two pushed her door open wider, wrapping one arm around her middle and the other around the back of her head, clasping his hand-- hot and sticky-- over her mouth.

She didn't have a chance to close the door on them, or even scream, though she did try to, the vibration of it against his palm making her lips go numb as he began tugging her down the steps while she kicked and clawed at his arms, doing everything in her power to try to get away while thick, hot panic replaced all of the euphoria she had been drowning in all day.

"¡Cállate!" The one dragging her snapped, his head darting around to make sure no one was watching them as he pulled her writhing, little body into the idling Pinto at the edge of the sidewalk.

__________

Javier jogged up the steps of Emma's building, one hand clutching the bouquet, the other sliding out of his pocket, already preparing to knock on her door before he even got to the top of the stairs.

He was nervous, but it wasn't the type of nerves he was accustomed to, it was all fluttery and hopeful. He thought the second she opened her door he might need to pull her into his arms just to convince himself that this was actually happening.

But when he reached the top of the stairs, and raised his fist to knock on the door, his eyebrows pinched together as he noticed that it was already ajar.

"Emma." He called out, slowly pushing it open further so he could step inside.

It was quiet. He took another step inside, frantically taking in his surroundings. Nothing was out of place, nothing was missing, it didn't look like anyone had broken in.

"Chiquita." He called out, his voice now pinched and a tad higher than normal as he placed the bouquet down on the kitchen counter, his boots thudding against the hardwood as he marched into her bedroom, then her bathroom, tugged open all the closets as a heavy, viscous wave of worry rose up in his chest, coating his tongue, bitter and sharp.

"Emma!" His voice thundered through the apartment, bouncing off the walls and echoing out the open door as he rushed back into the living room.

She wasn't there, but she had to have just been there. Her work clothes were strewn all over the floor of her bedroom, her makeup bag was open on the counter in the bathroom, a coffee mug with a little lipstick stain was still sitting, half empty, on the coffee table.

Javier anxiously looked around the room before his eyes snapped and settled on the phone on the kitchen counter. He darted to it, picking up the receiver and dialing the number of the bar, his fingers drumming against the counter as he listened to it ring.

"Fireside." A man's voice finally echoed through.

"Is Emma still there?" He inquired harshly, disregarding pleasantries as he turned to stare out the open door, the cord wrapping around the width of him as he did.

"Nope, she left at the end of her shift, probably like... an hour ago?"

"She didn't come back?"

"Nope. She was actually in a rush to leave, said something about plans tonight. I could take down your name and let her k--"

Javier hung up before he could finish his sentence, his heart pounding so heavily in his head that he felt like he might faint.

The best-case scenario was that she had run out on their date... but Javier knew that wasn't the truth. She wouldn't have left her door open; she wouldn't have sounded so excited when he talked to her on the phone earlier. Emma wasn't the type to forgo the truth for anyone else's feelings, specifically his.

Something had happened to her.

Someone had done something to her, and he was going to tear the entire city apart until he found her.

He was also probably going to kill someone. Maybe multiple someones.

He exited her apartment, closing the door behind him, rage now mixing with that heavy, unyielding worry surging through his core as he ran back to his apartment to dig through those boxes in his bedroom.

For the first time in eight months, he pulled out his badge and loaded his gun.

__________

Emma tried to scream again, her lips burning as the duct tape over her mouth strained at the force.

The two men occupying the cold, concrete room she was in laughed as she tugged at the rope securing her wrists, trying to wiggle her hands out as the chair she had been tied to scraped across the floor as she squirmed. Though, even if she did manage to get out of the chair, she didn't really have a plan after that. She was locked in here with them, in some abandoned warehouse at the edge of the city. She only knew that because they hadn't blindfolded her, just duct taped her mouth once they got in the car and hit her so hard across the face, she could still feel it throbbing hours later.

Had it been hours? She couldn't really tell. There were no windows. There wasn't much of anything in that room. Just the chair she was tied to, a couple sagging cardboard boxes that looked like they'd been there since the late eighties, a table with a radio, and those two men, who sat at the table speaking in Spanish, occasionally turning around to laugh at her.

She didn't know what they wanted, didn't know who they were, though she had a sinking feeling they were somehow involved in one of the cartels Javier had taken down.

Javier.

He had to have gotten to her apartment by now, found it empty, the door still wide open. She hoped that he wouldn't think she had abandoned him, hoped that he could piece together that something had happened to her, hoped that he, in all his intelligence and competence, could find her... somehow, God, he had to find her. She didn't have anyone else.

Her throat felt thick and sour, and she struggled to breathe through her nose as another wave of prickling panic surged from her gut, up her spine, another muted scream echoing through the empty room.

"¡Cállate!" The man screamed again, bolting from his seat, and beginning to march toward her.

Her eyes grew wide, her chest heaving as she tried to scoot back, away from his foreboding form.

It was no use though, he reached her in just a few strides, planting one hand on the back of the chair and rearing his other hand back, bringing it forward with a resounding crack, hitting her so hard across the face that she tasted blood in her mouth, bitter and salty. Her vision went out for a minute as her face throbbed, the force of it shooting down her neck. Tears sprung up and flooded down her face, loosening the adhesive of the tape just enough so that her sobs were a bit more audible, her lips able to move a centimeter more as she sucked in shaky breaths that had her chest burning.

He marched back to the table, and as he did, she noticed a gun tucked into the back of his pants, the same position as the invisible gun that taunted Javier.

A cold, stinging realization made itself clear to her as she watched him sit back down, gun still tucked into his pants. She was probably going to die here. She was going to die here, and she would never get the chance to tell Javier how she felt. She would never get a chance to truly bask in the safety he had gifted her, never get to ease into it, let it melt away the harsh necessity to survive that she had been stuck in since the day her parents died. She was going to die here, and Javier would never know that she loved him.

__________

Javier called the police, barking orders at them as they continuously told him that they had it under control. He'd worked with enough local police stations to know that wasn't remotely true. And even if it was, there was no way in hell he was going to sit on his ass, twiddle his thumbs, and wait for them to find her.

He was going to do it.

She was his, and he was going to find her, if it was the last thing he ever fucking did.

He retraced her steps from the bar to her apartment twice, looking for something, anything that could clue him in to where she was, who had taken her. He searched her apartment again, harassed the patrons at the bar, only leaving when Nick threatened to call Martin, though he did think about staying and punching him in the face without Emma there to intervene.

But no, he couldn't do that to her, especially not now, when she needed him.

He was rusty, he knew that, and his ability to think clearly was astronomically impaired by the thick worry swirling around in his chest, the rage boiling in his core. If something happened to her before he could get to her, he was going to rain hell, destroy anyone even remotely responsible, there was no doubt in his mind, he would never stop.

He couldn't think like that, though, it was fucking with his capacity to investigate at a level even remotely comparable to what he used to.

Getting old, getting fucking soft.

When women went missing it was usually someone they knew that had taken them, the same with children. The problem was, Emma didn't know very many people. All the regulars were at the bar, not with her, she didn't speak to her family, and the only people she'd mentioned as being former friends were her ex and the woman he'd cheated on her with.

Cheated on Emma, what a fucking idiota.

So, that's where he would start. Robert. He didn't know his last name, but he assumed he lived in the neighborhood. He was white so he could rule out all the Latino surnames. That wouldn't leave too many men between the ages of twenty-five and thirty living in the Sunset.

He was about to head to the library, raid their white pages, when he caught sight of a blue SUV, creeping up the street, then speeding away as soon as he made eye-contact with the driver.

It could be nothing, but something deep in his gut told him it was something.

"I'm coming, chiquita." He whispered as he began jogging in the direction the SUV had gone. "Hold on for me, baby."

__________

Emma's eyes snapped to the door as a third man burst through.

"Acabo de ver a Peña, jefe." The new figure uttered as he strode over to the man who had dragged Emma into the car.

Her heart spasmed at the mention of his name, but she couldn't translate the rest of his sentence, she was too hysteric to even understand English.

"¿Dónde?" He asked, still not standing from the table, fiddling with the radio that was mostly spitting out static.

"Cerca de el bar."

"Estará aquí pronto." The taller man said, pulling his gun out from the back of his pants and placing it on the table. "Hasta entonces, adelante y diviértete con ella." He muttered, pointing back over his shoulder toward Emma.

Her back snapped up straight, her body frozen as the man who had just entered-- shorter and rounder than the other two-- directed his attention over to her, his tongue darting out of his mouth and licking at his cracked bottom lip.

"Qué bonita, deberíamos conservarla." He murmured, then stalked toward her, while she once again, tried to shuffle her chair away, shaking her head manically, tears tainting her vision as he parked himself in front of her, kneeling and yanking her chair toward him, dark, greedy gaze locked on her knees.

"Déjeme ver." The man uttered, yanking her dress up to her lap, making her sobs go all frantic and pained, so intense that it became difficult to breathe through her nose and she was left gasping against the tape, shaking her head in such a rapid manner that she couldn't see, could just feel him as he dragged his fingers up her legs, hooking them into the elastic of her underwear and beginning to pull them down, letting them fall to her calves, where they stayed, stretched apart from the position they had her legs bound.

She felt bile rise in the back of her throat, thick and sour, her limbs felt heavy and numb, the panic in her chest expanding into a hot, throbbing ball of fear so sharp and forceful that she just began screaming, trying to scramble away from him, the chair knocking on its legs as he pressed her thighs down, mean, thick fingers digging into her skin with so much pressure she felt bruises developing.

"¡Siéntate quieta!" He barked, grabbing crudely and aggressively at her while his other hand reached into his pants to yank his grotesque penis out, beginning to jack it up and down while he stared at her.

"No no no no no!" She screamed, voice muffled by the tape and her panicked sobs, "Javier! Please stop. Javier help, please please!" She cried, eyes slamming shut so she wouldn't have to see him, her heart pounding so fast she felt like it might just stop. She needed him right now, right now.

"Él no está aquí." The man in front of her grunted. "Lo vamos a matar." He laughed, a menacing, evil chuckle that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end even though she had no idea what he was saying.

"Javier, Javier, Jav-ier!" She screamed his name like it was the only word she knew, her body shaking so intensely, involuntary shudders that worked up her legs, spasming through her spine, and then all the way to her scalp.

He mocked her, then groaned, finishing into a disgusting, vile puddle on the ground between her feet.

He didn't pull her panties back up, he left them stretched out between her legs as she shook, the cold air in that drafty warehouse biting at all her exposed skin.

Emma had spent a decade of her life alone, but she had never felt as desolate as she did in that moment. The shell she'd kept herself inside of, intact and strong, sturdy enough to have protected her from all previous storms, cracked in half, fell apart and crumbled into a thousand, unsalvageable pieces on the floor. She knew that if she got out of here, she would never be the same. Nothing would ever be the same.

__________

On the other side of the city Javier was hailing a taxi, gun secure in the back of his pants, his hands in shaky fists at his sides.