But he does wrap a hand around my arm again, lifting me to stand.
“Let’s go.”
I trip over my feet as he pulls me along. A light switch flicks on, and I can tell light has just illuminated the room he’s brought me to.
“Toilet. Go!” he orders.
“I-I can’t see.”
Another frustrated huff and then he roughly pulls the blindfold from my eyes. I blink a couple of times, until my vision clears. The bathroom is tiny, barely able to hold the toilet and sink.
“Go! Bathroom,” he orders, pointing at the toilet.
I shift and do my best to hold up my tied hands. “I-I can’t.”
His face reddens and he huffs. A frown forms as he looks from my face to my hands and back again. I use this time to study his face. Yes, it was the gala where I saw him. He was talking to someone right before Travis introduced me to them.
He points a finger in my face. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I shake my head to tell him that I wouldn’t dare. It stings as he pulls at the ties around my wrist, but eventually they loosen and fall away. He snatches the string from the floor and shoots me one final glare before slamming the door behind him.
I rub at the abrasions on my wrists while I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember that night.
Skyland Grant.
That’s who he was talking to before almost disappearing for the evening. Travis’ teammate, but his entire team is in the Netherlands right now.
Blinking my eyes open, I shake those questions free as they won’t help me right now. I begin frantically searching for something, anything that could help me out in this situation.
There’s not much.
The only item in the room besides the sink and toilet, is a used toothbrush that sits on the sink next to the faucet. Not even a roll of toilet paper. Nevertheless, I grab the toothbrush and stuff it into the pocket of my sundress.
Then I flush the toilet and run the water from the sink to make it sound as if I’m washing my hands. Before I can turn the water off, the guy pushes the door open.
“Come out,” he demands.
“Please don’t,” I ask when he brings out the tie for my hands again. “My wrists are already bruised enough and what type of fight could I give you in this condition.” I gesture toward my belly.
His frown deepens.
“Shit,” he grumbles. “This better be worth it,” I think he says.
So this wasn’t an accident. Whoever this guy is, intentionally sought me out. Which, of course he did. He came to my apartment, asked for me specifically by name. But I have no idea why.
“Sit,” he orders, pointing at the chair I was just in.
When seated, I look around the room. It’s a small space, not much aside from the chair, a stained and ripped armchair across the room from me, a dusty wooden armoire where he’s placed his gun.
“Thank you for letting me use the bathroom,” I tell him.
“Don’t thank me,” he spits back. “I’m going to get a lot of money for you.”
“I don’t have any money to give you,” I lie.
He sneers at me. “I don’t want your fucking money. As soon as Townsend loses that race because he knows you were taken, my bets are going to pay off.”
My head spins. I don’t know anything about sports betting.
