She grinned at me, tongue showing as I scratched behind her ears.
Another message popped into my DMs with a ding. I glanced up, half expecting it to be DeShaun prolonging our goodbye.
It wasn’t him. There was an anonymous name tag—not that unusual for cam viewers who didn’t want anyone identifying them.
You can’t hide. Cut the shit and get us our money, or we’ll fuck you up.
My heart lurched, and I slammed the laptop shut. My phone started vibrating on the coffee table. I eyed it uneasily.
It stopped. Then went off again.
And again.
Finally, I snatched it up.
Two missed calls from Sheila. A text from Nate. And a voicemail from an unknown number that had come in early this morning. Maybe when I was in the shower. I hadn’t been checking notifications.
With a shaky hand, I lifted my phone and played the message.
“Where the fuck are you, Shiloh?” Curtis said. “Brick told me he had to get a little hands-on the last time you met. But you get us our money, and no one will hurt you. You try to run or hide, it’ll only make things worse.”
Brick’s voice came on the line. “I gave you a fucking love tap compared to what will happen if you don’t pay on time. You better be in the usual spot on Sunday.”
Curtis returned, his voice soothing in contrast. “No one wants to hurt you. Jimmie put you in this position, not us. We’re just dealing with the situation, same as you. Let’s all play nice, and no one will get hurt.”
Click.
I held the phone, staring at it, pulse racing. Had I made a huge mistake by running? Would they find me and hurt me worse? But there was no way they’d track me all the way to Nebraska, right? They didn’t know my connection to Holden.
People could track phones, though, couldn’t they? I wasn’t sure that these guys were sophisticated enough for that, but I didn’t want to find out they’d gotten hold of some app to track “friends” or some shit.
Fuck. What did I do now?
Banshee whimpered and pushed in against me, sensing my panic. I hugged her tight, waiting for my heart to calm.
Holden will know what to do.
I stood on unsteady legs and went down the hall to peek into the bedroom. Banshee followed at my heels, her nails clicking on the hardwood.
Holden was stretched out on the bed, in nothing but his boxer briefs, and damn…the man filled out those briefs and then some.
As freaked as I was, I took a second to mourn the fact Holden would never know the pleasure of someone’s touch instead of the pain he’d suffered as a child. The pleasure of my touch, especially.
He deserved so much better.
I hesitated in the doorway, unsure if I should wake him, but Banshee had no such reservations. She trotted into the room and jumped up on the foot of the bed.
He shifted and opened his eyes.
“Shiloh?” He sat abruptly, alert. “What’s wrong?”
Banshee climbed into his lap the moment he sat up, and Holden wrapped an arm around her. She gazed at me with the most content expression I’ve ever seen on a dog, but then, why wouldn’t she? I wish I had a strong, sexy man to hold me with that kind of casual affection.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He waved that away. “Tell me why you look so worried.”
I held out my phone. “I got a voicemail.”
