I go back to my desk and I close the door. There’s nothing I can do now but wait. Not to clock out. I was told not to clock out. This isn’t overtime. It’s not an afterhours job.
Ransome Rozanov told me to stay late. And if I am being honest with myself, he’s right.
I should be scared.
21
AMARA
“You never said anything about a blindfold,” I say as Ransome uses his black tie to cover my eyes.
It’s tight enough that I can’t see, that I can’t take it off by simply moving my head around. But it’s soft. And it smells like him.
“I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“You do if you don’t want me to call the police,” I say as his hand covers the top of my head. He is helping me into the back of his car and the world—my world—is black.
“You’re not that stupid,dorogoya.” His accent is thick on the last word.
“What does that mean anyways?” I ask as soon as he gets in the front seat of the car and closes his door. “Dorogoya.You say it all the time, but I don’t know what it means.”
Ransome shifts the car and punches the pedal. My back hits the seat hard. “For someone who is very adequate in the stalking department, you are somewhat lacking in the research department…dorogoya.”
I am officially pissed. If I had known this is what he meant by ‘stay after’, I would have left. As we drive down the street to God knows where, I am fuming. Also, note to self:
When I told myself I hoped that Ransome has a kinky side? Yeah, no, this is not what I meant. Because this… this is how women die. This is how girls go missing and aren’t seen again until a hiker uncovers them in the woods. Stops to tie their shoe and sees a stiff hand sticking out of the dirt.
Well, not me. I am not going to be a girl in the dirt. Which is why, despite Ransome’s sporadic driving, I have been clocking every twist and turn we have taken since we left the Apex building. I have lived in this city my whole life and I have become very familiar with every backroad, underpass and byway.
I have also been singing Bohemian Rhapsody in my head, on beat and on repeat since he peeled out. As a diehard Queen fan, there is no song I know better. And not just in the way that everyone who’s gone to a live concert knows it is the last song they play before the band comes out as a crowd engager (thank you, Green Day). I know that it is five minutes and fifty five seconds long. And as of now, I have sung it three times. Going on four now.
Suddenly the car stops. At first, it feels like we are in the middle of a road, since he didn’t even bother to slow down. But when he shifts into park and I hear the click of his seatbelt, I deduce that we have reached the final destination. Or my final destination, I should say.
The door clicks.
“Stay here,” he says.
I actually snort at that. “Not sure where you thought I was going to go. I don’t know where we are.”
That, and he tied my hands too. Another kinky detail that feels less kinky when I actually feel like I am going to die.
Actually, that’s a small lie. Not about the deadly bondage—I still feel very much like a scream queen waiting to happen. But the part about not knowing where we are? Teensy, tiny white lie.
Kind of.
While I don’t know our exact location, I have an idea. We are outside of the city, near the coast. I can smell it. Not in a Whitesands Beach-y sort of way. More like cold, dark water, the smell of fish strong in the air.
In short, we are nowhere I want to be.
With that, the door closes. But before I can let out a sigh, the backdoor opens and I jump. I feel Ransome’s hands on me and my body goes rigid.
This is it. This is the part where I should scream.
But as it would turn out, he’s actually taking the blindfold off.
“Here,” he says gruffly. “Don’t try anything. You’re not fast enough to outrun me.”
The way he says it sends chills down my spine. And not just the wrong kind.
