I take a deep breath.First things first, I’m going to figure out where I am.
Then I’m going to figure out what I can do about it.
I’m still weak from whatever they drugged me with, so I need to move slowly.
I go to the door and try the handle, but it’s locked.I fight my panic.
Instead of turning on the lights, I head to the window and pull back the curtains.And almost have a heart attack.
I’m in a room high above a nighttime cityscape.The city below is a flat grid stretching to the distant mountains.A few miles away are a bunch of glittering towers and a huge lit up dome.
Vegas.
I’m in Vegas.
What the F?Did those guys toss me in the back of a van and drive me all the way here?No wonder my whole body aches.
This has to do with my dad.He used to live in Vegas, probably still does.Somehow, this has to do with him.
That thought should comfort me, but it doesn’t.Why would my dad kidnap me?I knew he ran with a bad crowd, but they’re all pretty stupid.This is an elaborate scheme that requires focus.A bunch of druggies couldn’t do this, could they?
And why would they do it?
I put a hand on my chest and belly and start deep breathing exercises before I have a panic attack and pass out.Whatever they used to drug me is still in my system, making me sluggish, but my heart is racing.
I look for a phone, so I can call 911.Or Matthias.For some reason, I’d rather call Matthias, which is illogical, since he’s back in New Mexico, and I’m in Las Vegas, but I need a dose of his cool, calm, and collected demeanor.I need him to tell me what to do.
I find the phone jack, but the phone has been removed.Dammit!Maybe I can bang on the door and attract some attention.
I start toward it, but just then, the handle turns, and the door swings in.
I gasp, taking a step back.
ChapterSeven
Maisy
The person who just entered switches on the lights, temporarily blinding me.I shrink back toward the windows, squinting at them until my vision clears.
“Dad?”
“Hey, flower girl.”My dad looks older than ever, even though he’s only mid-forties.He knocked my mom up when they were young twenty-somethings working at the casinos and partying hard.His face is red, his eyes bloodshot, but he doesn’t look drunk or high.He’s in a white button-down shirt and faded black slacks, which is dressed up for him.
“What’s going on?Why am I here?”
“What, no hug for your dear ole dad?”He opens his arms, showing the yellowed patches under his arms.
I’m speechless with an emotion I can’t name.And then I realize what I’m feeling.
Rage.
“No,Allen,” I use his name because he’s not a parent to me.He never was.It’s about time I made that clear.“I want to know why I’m in Vegas.”I harden my voice.“You’re going to tell me what’s going on, right now.”
Allen sighs and rubs a hand over his head, his gaze dropping to the carpet.“Yeah, this didn’t go how I’d like.You should’ve answered your phone,” he says accusingly.“I’ve been calling you.”
“I was busy,” I say.I don’t say the obvious–that I blocked him because I want him out of my life.Things have escalated into terrifying territory, and I need to play this smart.I might need to charm my dad long enough to get out of here.
Because I will escape.I promise myself that.
