"Keep doing CPR," Jackson instructs a formidable giant of a man, who keeps his huge paws pumping against the dying man's chest.
My eyes drift closed, and I must lose a few minutes of time. Because when my eyes open again, the hole in the man's shoulder has been sewn shut, and Jackson is now working on the man's torn-up thigh.
Jackson and the giant whisper in panicked, hushed voices. Once in a while, the giant will glance in my direction. His eyes are blue, piercing…and cold.
I shiver under his stare just as he says, "She's awake now." I detect an accent…perhaps Russian.
Jackson doesn't tear his gaze away from the man beneath him, however. He simply states, "She's not going anywhere, but keep an eye on her just in case. I got this."
Glancing down at the ropes wrapped tightly around my body, I struggle against my binds to no avail. The giant's glare bores into me, and another shiver wracks my body. "Otkuda vy?" I ask in my native tongue.Where are you from?
"Moscow," he replies, and his accent is definitely more pronounced now.
"Ty dolzhen mne pomoch'," I plead with him.You have to help me.
"Not a chance," he sneers in English, not even bothering to use the language we both know he speaks.
Sighing in defeat, I rest my head back on the floor, planning on waiting out this scenario. It's not like I can go anywhere, being tied up like some kind of animal.
I glance around at my surroundings. I'm in a large gym with state-of-the-art equipment. I've never been on anything other than a treadmill, so I don't even understand how some of the machines work.
"Where's Adeline?" I hear Jackson ask the other man, and I can hear the change in the tone of his voice. He sounds…frightened.
I watch them, listening carefully as the giant explains, "She's gone. They took her after doing…" He pauses, his hand waving over the unconscious man's body, before saying, "This."
"Adeline is…gone," Jackson says in disbelief, shaking his head. "Fuck. We have to…we have to find her. We have to get her back. We have to do something!" he shouts, frantic.
"I know. And I tried everything I could possibly think of, but I don't know where she is, Jax. I don't know where they've gone."
Jax. These two are close since the giant's calling him by a nickname.
Jackson stands, forgetting his fallen friend for a moment, and rakes his fingers through his dark hair in desperation. He paces the floor, muttering under his breath.
I realize that this girl is important to him. Perhaps maybe even someone he's in love with. And I'm surprised when the irrational pang of jealousy courses through me. I have no idea why, though, since this man kidnapped me and is holding me against my will…tied up in a strange place.
Seeming to get his shit together, Jackson tells the giant to take his cousin upstairs to a particular room. The giant lifts the unconscious man easily and cradles him like a baby in his arms as he carries him out of the gym.
When they're gone, Jackson turns to me and frowns. I do not like the sight of the frown on his face. It's almost as if he's trying to decide what he's going to do with me, and that can't be a good thing.
I'm completely at his mercy. He could rape me or kill me, and there would be nothing I could do to stop him.
Struggling against the ropes, I ask him, "What are you going to do with me?"
He stares at me for a moment and then says, "I'm going to have to lock you up until I can figure shit out."
I buck against him as he reaches for me. Effortlessly, he hauls me up over his shoulder, and I move and twist against his hold. I'm not going to make this easy on him.
"Hey, I'm not going to hurt you!" he yells, clearly agitated with my efforts to get away from him.
A sharp smack sounds. And it's not until I feel the sting on my ass that I realize he just spanked me. I become stock-still and instantly strop struggling. Now I'm just pissed off. "Did you…did you justspankme?" I ask incredulously.
"Well, you're acting like a total child right now," he says sardonically.
"A child?" I exclaim. "You kidnapped me and are holding me hostage. How am I supposed to act?"
He pauses at the bottom of a staircase and then mutters, "Good point," before trapping my legs with one, muscular arm and carrying me up the stairs.
My head bounces along the way, and I get a good look at his firm ass in his designer jeans. It would be so much easier to hate and fight him if he wasn't so damn good-looking.
