Stolen Jewel by Alexis Abbott

Stefan

It’s a beautiful clear morning after the hail fell on the roof throughout the night. When I woke up this morning, the birds were singing and the sunshine was basking on Jewel’s lovely sleeping face. I didn’t want to wake her, but we have a lot to do today. I gently kissed her awake, and the two of us have been preparing for the journey ahead all morning since. We both put on black long-sleeved shirts and dark, fleece-lined pants, along with thick black socks and boots. It’s imperative that we look unassuming and feel comfortable, since we will be in the car for at least six or seven hours today. I have to admit, Jewel looks adorable in her soft winter pants. Her round, juicy bottom jiggles as she moves through the kitchen. I’m hard at work making us coffee for the road, but it’s hard to stay focused when the most beautiful woman in the world is making sandwiches just a few feet away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her methodically lay out the slices of wheat bread, then perfectly stack two squares of cheese and a few slices of deli turkey on top. Her brows are furrowed and her mind is laser-focused while she cuts up fruit to bring with us as snacks. She’s taking her food rationing responsibility very seriously, and it’s cute.

“Make sure and pack a few extras,” I remark.

She breaks concentration just long enough to look up and nod before returning to her very important task. It’s good that she’s making a lot of food for the road. We don’t know how long we will have to stay out there. I’m planning for a short, to the point trip-- we know generally what we need, and I don’t want to be there a second longer than necessary. But I can’t say for sure when we’ll be back. Or even if we will be back. Truth is, a lot of things can go wrong today. We need a lot of luck and skill to do this right. But I don’t share my more pessimistic concerns with Jewel just yet. I don’t want to scare her.

I pour the freshly-brewed, fragrant coffee into two gigantic travel mugs for the road. Jewel is finishing up the food, and I stop to admire her for a moment. She takes great care to make each sandwich symmetrical and equal with the others. When she cuts up fruit, she does so in perfect little cubes, all the same size. She painstakingly packs and seals every individual item, then tucks them neatly into a big brown bag. It’s more like art than packing a lunch. My princess looks so lovely and domestic bent over the kitchen counter in full concentration. For a moment, I imagine what it would be like to have a normal life with her. There’s an urge in my heart to just say ‘fuck the world’ and hide away up here in the mountains indefinitely. Play house with my sweet, beautiful queen, and just let the bloody drama play out in another city. We could just pretend our past won’t catch up to us… until it does.

It’s only a matter of time, and we’re sitting ducks up here. We have been hiding long enough. Now it’s time to strike back, find out what we need to know. We are about to walk right back into the mouth of the beast: we’re going to Freddie Albany’s stately family home in Medford, not far from Harvard where Jewel attended law school. It’s the place she called home, as well, until I plucked her out of her life. It’s one of the riskiest places we could go, but we have to-- we need to find proof of Freddie’s corruption. Not just for tactical reasons, but for closure. Jewel needs undeniable proof that her father deserves whatever dark fate we may have to deliver to him. She deserves the truth about her own family.

“You almost ready, Jewel?” I ask her.

She looks over at me and nods. She hoists the brown bag into her arms.

“I’m ready. Food is packed. Let’s go,” she says.

With all of our necessities packed up, we head out into the bright, sunny morning. We pile into the old white car and start rolling down the long, winding driveway out to the road. The forest is teeming with wildlife today, putting on a little show for us as we wind down the mountain. Jewel rolls down the window part of the way to breathe in the fresh air. I watch her dark hair billow out around her face. She closes her eyes and tilts back. The sun beams on her round cheeks and full lips. It’s almost enough to make me drive off the road, but I stay alert. I tell myself again that no matter what happens today, I have to protect this angelic creature.

“It’s gonna be so weird, seeing my house again,” she says a little while later.

“The last time I saw the place, I was staking it out to learn your habits,” I admit.

She chuckles softly. “Isn’t it strange how things change?”

“It is, my Jewel,” I agree.

“I wonder how that house will appear to me now, after… all of this,” she muses aloud. “It hardly feels like home to me anymore when I think about it. I almost don’t want to go back. But I know we have to. There’s so much we don’t know yet.”

“Is there anywhere in the house you think we should start with?” I ask.

She chews on that for a moment, then answers, “The top floor office. My dad spent a lot of time in there, pretty much all his time when he was actually home. He always kept the door locked, too, so I couldn’t get in.”

I frown. “That’s suspicious.”

“Yeah,” Jewel sighs. “I guess it is. Back then, I just thought it was because it was work stuff. Confidential information or whatever. I never tried very hard to get in there before. I assumed it wasn’t my business.”

“It sounds like exactly the place where he would hide important information. Things he doesn’t want getting out,” I add. “We’ll find something. I’m sure of it. But we will have to be extremely careful. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how dangerous it is breaking into an ICE agent’s personal home.”

She winces a little. “Especially one like Dad. He, uh, is known to hold a grudge.”

“We’ll do it carefully. When we first arrive, we’ll stake the place out, see what we are dealing with,” I explain. “Then we make our move.”

“Oh, we’ll have to be careful about the car, too,” she pipes up. “Not to bring up sore memories, but this is the car you kidnapped me in, Stefan.”

“Right,” I grunt.

“It’s my friend Gina’s car, and she will definitely have reported it missing. The cops will be looking for the car, even if Dad doesn’t have them looking for me,” she reasons. “Plus, we’ll be driving it around in the same vicinity as that club we stole it from.”

I notice how she uses ‘we’ instead of ‘you.’ It warms my frigid heart. She sees me as a teammate now. A partner, rather than a captor. Things do change.

“That’s why we’re taking the back roads as much as possible,” I reply.

“Good. Because Medford is full of nosy busybodies with way too much time and money on their hands. Everybody watches everyone else. Constant scrutiny and gossip,” she says.

“That sounds terrible,” I comment.

She nods. “Oh yeah. Trust me. It was like growing up in a fishbowl. Of course, Dad did whatever he could to make it even worse, not just for me but for the neighbors, too. He was always calling the HOA on people for their grass being a centimeter too long or their garage doors left open. One time, the old lady down the street painted her mailbox pink, and Dad raised hell so they’d make her change it back,” Jewel recounts with disgust.

“He likes the rules as long as they suit him,” I reply.

“Exactly,” she agrees. “And no matter how awful he was to everybody, no one could fight back. Dad knew how to keep enough leverage with his powerful allies to stay immune. He ran this neighborhood. The whole town, really.”

“I believe the word is ‘megalomaniac,’” I sound out in my accented pronunciation.

Jewel snorts. “Yeah, pretty much. You know, it would actually make sense if he is involved with the mafia. Dad always loved lording control over people. Ultimate control is his dream. He doesn’t just want to rule, he wants to be a tyrant.”

We roll along through the scenic, wooded back country, making good time as we avoid all major cities. Surrounded by trees and rarely other vehicles, it feels almost peaceful to ride down the highway with my girl beside me. But as we creep closer to our destination, the scenery starts to change. The area becomes more populated. Houses crop up in greater density. The forest makes way for buildings and parking lots, grocery stores and shopping malls. Still, I stick to the path less traveled.

“The Bratva could have eyes anywhere,” I warn her.

“ICE could have eyes out, too, at my father’s command,” she reminds me grimly.

At the same time, we turn to glance at each other. We reach out and take one another’s hand. She gives it a little squeeze, and I squeeze back. I feel instantly recharged with motivation.

“We’re in this together, either way,” she says.

“Till the very end,” I agree.

I feel a flush of intense affection for this strong, brave, surprising girl. I’m impressed that she’s so dedicated to truth and justice that she’s willing to go to such lengths to prove her own father is a villain. Despite his best attempts to sculpt her in his image, Jewel is truly good at heart, and he could never erase that. She’s so good, in fact, that she makes me a better man. She is a moral compass in the palm of my hand, and I will go to any length to protect her.

As we draw nearer to the Albany house, the scenery changes again. Everywhere you look, there’s perfectly trimmed hedges and topiary. Marble promenades. Concrete columns and pillars that would look better at an ancient theater than on these oversized houses. I wrinkle my nose at the flawless lawns and gardens, knowing that they were made beautiful by underpaid hired help, not by the people who own the houses. Once again, I’m amazed that a selfless, wonderful woman like Jewel came from a place of such blatant entitlement. It’s further proof that not even an evil man like Freddie and all the luxury in the world couldn’t corrupt her.

Finally, we pull onto her street. We stop the car in the same spot I used to stake her out, a few houses down. The car is obscured by high hedges, but I still have a good view of the Albany house with my binoculars.

“Let me check the scene,” I murmur as I lift the binoculars to my eyes.

“What do you see?” Jewel asks eagerly. “Is he there?”

“His car is gone,” I note.

“Oh good. He’s probably away on business, then,” she says. “So it’s unattended?”

“Not entirely. There’s a man guarding out front. I recognize him,” I relay to her.

“Wait, really? From where?” she asks.

I look over at her, pained. “The brotherhood. We never worked together, but I remember his face. He’s usually on security detail because of his size.”

“So, he’s a big scary guy, basically,” she sighs. “Sounds like the type my dad usually hired for security. He’s probably been hiring from… those people all along.”

I hand her the binoculars. “Stay here. I’m moving in.”

“What? Stefan, what if--”

“I’ll neutralize the guard. You watch me. When it’s done, you come catch up to me, okay? But not until he goes down,” I command her.

She gulps and nods. “Okay. Be careful.”

“I will,” I assure her as I step out of the car.

I keep low to the ground as I move in on the house. I use Freddie’s ridiculous topiary shapes against him, hiding behind the carved hedges until I’m within a hundred feet of the guard. He looks like a mean guy, but he also looks bored. A little sleepy, too. He yawns and checks his watch. He’s itching for a break.

Well, I can give him a little rest.

When he happens to turn away from me, I go barreling out of the hedges full-tilt. I tackle the big brute to the ground before he can even process what’s happening. I put my elbow against his throat, crush him with my full body weight, and give him a swift butt to the head. His eyes roll back and he goes limp. He’s knocked out cold, and probably will be for a little while. My own forehead smarts a little, but it’s no wound. I search the man’s pockets and find a set of keys. Easy enough. I look back toward the car and see, to my relief, Jewel running my way. She looks pale and nervous, but she followed the mission.

“Oh my god. Is he dead?” she whispers, eyes wide.

“Just unconscious,” I assure her as I fit the key in the door. It clicks and falls open.

We step inside. I’m instantly struck by the stately decor. Everything is very orderly and classically-styled, with the typical leather and dark wood theme I find in houses like this one. Everywhere you look, there are signs of major wealth. It feels more like a museum than a home. We make our way up the first flight of stairs. Jewel pauses at one room with the door open. She peers inside, looking sad.

“My bedroom,” she says. “Weird. It hardly feels like home anymore. I look around and I don’t see myself anywhere. Even my own bedroom is designed like the rest of the house. Dad never let me put much say into that stuff.”

I put a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s keep moving.”

She nods and follows me up the next set of stairs to the top floor. At the end of a long, eerie hallway is a locked door.

“This is the one,” Jewel confirms. “Dad’s office.”

None of the keys on the ring fit this door, but that doesn’t matter. I brace myself and bust down the door with one strong bump of my shoulder.

“Well, that works,” she says.

We spend a good few minutes snooping around the office, which is just as stately and meticulously organized as the rest of the domicile. Jewel digs through some filing cabinets while I open up the laptop on his desk. It instantly prompts me to enter a six-digit password.

“Jewel, what’s your father’s birthday?” I ask.

“December 19th, 1963,” she answers. “Why?”

“I’m trying his password,” I reply.

She abandons the cabinets and comes to look over my shoulder. I type in 12-19-63.

Password denied.

“Your birthday?” I ask.

“April 14th, 1996,” she says.

I try that one. No luck again.

“Makes sense. I doubt he even remembers my birthday, much less makes it his password,” Jewel admits bitterly. “What’s this mean, you think?”

She picks up a tiny yellow sticky note on the side of the desk. There’s a recent date on it.

“Might as well try it,” I murmur, typing in the date.

To our surprise, the password is accepted. The laptop opens up, and countless folders populate the screen. As I dig through the files, looking for incriminating information, Jewel looks to be doing math in her head. Then she gasps and covers her mouth.

“Oh my god. Stefan. I just realized… if my memory is right, that date he wrote down is the same day I tried to run away from you in the woods,” she says.

The weight of her discovery hits me, too.

“The day Victor ordered me to kill you,” I growl.

Jewel’s soft brown eyes fill with tears. “He was looking forward to it. So much that he made it his password,” she mumbles. She leans against the desk, looking deflated. “I knew it was bad, but not this bad. My god, he must have always hated me.”

“That’s not all, malyshka,” I tell her cautiously. “These files are filled with email conversations and transcripts. Your father runs a tight ship. He keeps every detail. The wording he uses… it’s familiar to me, Jewel.”

“What are you saying?” she asks, sniffling.

“The mafia likes to speak in code whenever possible. I learned that early on. Your father uses the same code throughout these conversations,” I explain.

“Well, what is he talking about?” she questions.

“Human trafficking,” I break to her. “Sex trafficking, to be specific.”

Her jaw drops and she looks ill.

“But he’s an ICE agent. He’s supposed to follow the rules. He’s supposed to protect those people,” Jewel murmurs, more to herself than to me. She’s coming to terms with a painful truth. She looks at me with deep agony in her eyes.

“My father is an even worse man than we thought, isn’t he?” she asks.

“Da, my Jewel. Much worse,” I agree.

For a second, I think she might completely lose it. Her face crumples and she fights back a sob. Then she wipes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and sets her soft lips in a hard line.

“We don’t have to feel bad about taking him down, then,” Jewel says fiercely.

“We’ll put a stop to this. I promise,” I tell her.

Suddenly, we hear a bizarre moaning noise from outside. I look out the window to see the guard starting to slowly stir down on the ground out front.

“Shit. Clock is running out. Let’s go,” I order her.

We hurry out of the office, locking it behind us. We rush down the two flights of stairs and out to the front steps, where the guard is starting to twitch and groan. While he’s still helpless, I feel around his pockets one last time.

“Come on, Stefan, he’s waking up,” Jewel urges me.

I pull out a cell phone and immediately notice the log of missed calls on the screen. The name associated with every call… Freddie Albany.

“We have to go. Now,” I tell her, thrusting the phone into her hands. “Run!”

Jewel tucks the phone in her pocket and we take off for the car, knowing that the world is about to collapse around us any minute now.