Light filters out from the supply warehouse as I walk past, and I frown. No one should be in there. Travis is out of town with his wife and their boyfriend for a mini vacation, and Callan is at a client meeting unless it wrapped up early.
“Hello?” I call out as I slip between the door and scan the large space.
My heart leaps to my throat when something cold and hard is pressed to the side of my head. “Hello, bitch.”
My cell slips out of my fingers and onto the floor. All the color drains from my face at the familiar tone, and blood pounds in my ears when a tiny voice screams and calls my name. I move to run to Darcy on instinct, but I’m yanked back by my hair.
“Not so fast. Aren’t you going to say hi to me, Azzie?”
“Go to hell, Gwen.”
“Now that’s not very Goody-Two-shoes of you, is it?” Gwen keeps the gun pressed to my head as she moves in front of me, kicking my cell across the floor in the process.
She looks like shit. Her dull black hair is coarsely chopped to her neck, her face is gaunt and haggard, and her cheap sweater and jeans hang off her skeletal frame. She’s aged hugely, and I’d be quietly rejoicing if it wasn’t for the manic bloodthirsty glaze in her eyes.
“You should be in jail.”
She smirks before dragging a derisory gaze over my black skirt suit and pink blouse. “Youshould be in jail.”
Darcy cries out again, and panic courses through my veins. “I’m here, Darcy,” I shout, wondering how the fuck Gwen got her out of school because I know her name isn’t on the pickup list.
“Astrid!” she cries. “I want my daddy!”
“If you’ve hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you,” I hiss, glaring at Gwen as my hands clench into fists at my sides.
Gwen laughs. “Oh, Azzie. You’re in no position to be demanding anything. But relax, I haven’t hurt her yet. I’m waiting for my man to get here.”
Her eyes roll around in the back of her head, and I’m trembling inside, but I need to keep my shit together. Darcy needs me, and I won’t let her down. “Leave Darcy out of this. Your beef is with me. Let her go, and we’ll have this out.”
“Shut. Up.” She pushes me, and I almost fall in my heels. “Walk, bitch.” Grabbing the back of my jacket, she prods the gun in my back, before pushing me forward between two tall rows of shelving housing various construction supplies.
My mind races through scenarios as I try to figure a way out of this before she kills us both. My eyes widen when I remember the cameras. Callan is anal about security after what happened with Gwen, and he has the same system installed here as he doesat his house. Travis didn’t object when they were setting up the office space, and I know he has cameras installed throughout the woods that surround his property.
An alert will have been triggered when the warehouse was opened, and the alarm was somehow deactivated. Callan will have checked the hidden cameras and know she’s here. He’s coming for us, but he’s over an hour away, so he’s probably called the cops, and they’re en route. I just need to keep her distracted until they arrive. “You didn’t answer me. How are you here when you’re not due for parole for four years?”
“Because she has me,” a man with a gruff voice says as we reach the end of the row, and I’m shoved forward into an unfamiliar man’s arms.
“Astrid!” Darcy cries, and I don’t even feel his nails digging into my arms as I look behind him to find her strapped to a wooden chair. Her hair has come loose from its braid, and her face is flushed as tears stream down her cheeks. Her pink backpack is tossed on the floor alongside her puffer jacket and scarf. She’s shaking and clearly petrified.
“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here now.”
Pain shoots through the back of my skull when Gwen hits me with the gun. “You think you can take my place, bitch?” I clutch the back of my head as she shoves her face all up in mine. “They aremine. Not yours.” Spittle flies from her lips, and her nostrils flare as she wraps her hand around my throat.
Darcy screams, and I try not to panic, but it’s challenging.
“Not yet.” The man wrenches me out of Gwen’s hold and drags me across the space, dumping me in the chair beside Darcy. “Don’t try anything, or my daughter will put a bullet between the girl’s eyes,” he says, bending down to tie my legs to the chair.
Daughter?Holy fuck. This prick is Gwen’s deadbeat dad who knocked her mom up at sixteen? His bald head is wrinkled andpuckered, and his face is creased with lines. Tattoos cover all sides of his neck and creep out from under the sleeves of his jacket. Stale breath blows across my face as he ties me up, and his foul body odor assaults my nostrils. He’s got to be pushing seventy or older, meaning he was at least forty when Gwen was born.
Darcy is bawling and shaking, her lips wobbling as she stares at me with pleading eyes.
“Shut up, you sniveling brat.” Gwen wraps her hands around Darcy’s neck, and my heart stutters in my chest.
“Don’t hurt her. Please. I’ll do anything you want, Gwen, but please leave Darcy alone.”
“Anything you say?” The old man cups my boob through my blouse, and I almost throw up.
“Don’t touch her,” Gwen snaps, grabbing his arm before he can finish properly tying my second arm to the chair. “She’s vile and a lousy lay. My man told me all about it.”
