He remained, finishing off his Gatorade with steady swallows.God knew he liked having Glenn’s hands on him.He’d like to explore that option, see where it led both of them.Was he letting fear trip him up?Glenn might be hesitating too because he wasn’t sure how Ross felt about it.Ross had never given him a firm indication one way or another.And Glenn wasn’t the sort of boss to put an employee in an awkward situation.
Wiping a hand over his face, he let out an aggravated growl.Why was love so messy?Relationships could be such a friggin’ pain.
His break over, he chucked the bottle in the trash and headed back out.He wouldn’t have the time to think about this much tonight, not with a full shift ahead of him.They wouldn’t close the haunted house until 2 am.But after that, he’d think about this properly and come to a decision.Ross couldn’t stand wishy-washy people, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be one.He’d make a choice and stick with it.
The hallways were semi-dark, without proper lighting, as of course it was just a temporary wall between him and rest of the building.And most of the building was lights out.Ross could hear the participants of their haunted house still wailing and screaming, and he choked on another aborted laugh.Wow, and to think people willingly paid for this.
A dark bag suddenly closed over his head and someone grabbed him around the torso, their arms locking around him.Ross’s initial reaction was knee-jerk, and he struggled to break free, trying to kick at whoever had him.
“Stop struggling,” a voice growled in his ear.
Ross very much would struggle fuckyouverymuch—no wait.Wait, hadn’t someone suggested random kidnappings to spice things up at the haunted house this year?And Ross had vetoed the option strongly because kidnapping someone inside the haunted house was a lawsuit waiting to happen, and he’d put his foot down with a firm no.
Apparently, his no had not been taken seriously.The enthusiastic kidnapper had gotten around his objection by kidnapping Ross instead.Ross groaned, head flopping forward.“Really?We’re doing this?”
“We are,” the voice growled again.The walkie-talkie was abruptly lifted off his belt and discarded.Then he lifted Ross off his feet effortlessly and hauled him like he weighed as much as a sack of potatoes.
Sometimes, you just have to take it one ‘are you fucking kidding me’ at a time.Ross rode along, eyes rolling, already preparing the blistering lecture he would unleash on these idiots as soon as they took the stupid hood off.
The outdoor air was cooler.He could feel it against his exposed hands as he was carted outside.Ross listened intently, trying to figure out just where they were taking him.A car door opened, and he was dragged up and into a vehicle—a van?SUV?Someone grabbed his hands, cuffs locking around his wrists, the metal a touch too cold against his chilled skin.
Weren’t they taking this whole kidnapping charade too far?Really, handcuffs?What happened to some good old-fashioned rope?And why was he in a car, anyway?Ross’s unease grew steadily.Something about this didn’t feel right.
“Hey—”
“Shut up.Master Man-Shik wishes to have words with you.You will speak only when he asks a question.”With that, the kidnapper slammed the door shut.
Man-Shik?Who the hell was Man-Shik?
Uh-oh.This didn’t look good.This looked like a legit kidnapping.The question was, why?And where the hell was he going?And how did he prevent himself from getting there?
The van started up with a loud rumble.Ross swore, fumbled for a window, but with his hands bound behind him and the stupid hood still over his head, he couldn’t find one easily.He was losing time, though—the clan could possibly hear him if he started screaming now.Ross wrestled with the hood first, needing to see what he was doing.He had to basically put his head at his toes before it finally fell off.Wriggling it free, he immediately looked up.
And promptly lost his balance as the van tore out of the parking lot.
Slamming against the side of the van, Ross winced as his cheek and ear took the brunt of that blow.Definitely would have a bruise from that.Struggling upright, he took a quick second to get his bearings.Cargo van, looked like—metal floor, no seats, not any windows either.Shit.No way for him to kick out the tail lights that he could see.Literally no way for him to signal for help.
Fucking hell, shit, why had he used his phone as the hot spot?He really needed it right then.
The van took a curve on two wheels, sending Ross spinning the other direction, slamming against the opposite side.He landed with a grunt of pain.And of course his kidnapper’s henchman had to drive like a Gone in Sixty-Seconds wannabe.He had nothing back here to even hang on to.Ross was sure to arrive bruised before he even got a chance to meet the evil mastermind.
Well.This night officially sucked.
In an effort to not look like a bruised apple at the end of the night, Ross braced his body into the corner of the van, feet planted on the floor.This helped some.He could at least ride the corners, even if he did slide in the effort and had to re-situate himself.As he sat there, he debated how many fucks he had to give for this situation.Ross’s day had been going well so far, so for once he had more than his usual number of fucks left at this time of the day.The problem was, he either gave too many fucks or no fucks at all.It was like he couldn’t find a middle ground for moderate fuck distribution.
This?This was going to require most of his bag.He had a feeling.
The van screeched to a halt, making an odd overtone, as if the van hadn’t stopped on pavement.Maybe polished cement?Tile?It had an echo effect as well, as if they were in an enclosed area.
Ross rolled onto his knees, away from the door, getting his feet under him.As soon as the doors opened, he kicked out, hitting a hairy-looking man square in the face.
Hairy’s head snapped back, blood spurting out of his nose as he stumbled backwards.Ross didn’t give him time to regain his balance, instead rushing for the door.
“Ah, ah, ah,” a male voice cautioned cheerfully.
Ross skidded to a stop.It was the wand that caught his attention first.Then his eyes traveled up the hand, the arm encased in a black suede sleeve, to the man holding it.An older Asian man, hair mostly silver instead of black, with a beak of a nose.He had the look of a man who’d never been properly loved.
“That was mean of you, kicking my employee like that,” the man said in an eerie, cheerful voice.It echoed in the cavernous space of the warehouse around them.A newer one, too, the floor painted a light grey and the overhead lights nearly blinding.
