Nope! I don’t want to know.
“But you drugged me.”
“Sorry. It was a necessary precaution.”
God, he says it so matter-of-factly that I want to punch him. Does he not realize how damn traumatic that is forsomeone? To wake up not knowing where you are, or what’s happened to you? To lose chunks of time with no memory at all?
To be at someone else’s mercy?
I need to get out before this escalates. Blondie may not have a Sleeping Beauty fetish, but I’m still chained to his wall, and even with my self-defense classes, I don’t think I can take down Blondie one-handed. He looks too strong. Too lethal.
I need to get out before he hurts me.
“Why don’t you let me go? We can chalk it all up to a misunderstanding.”
Negotiate. I can negotiate myself out of this, especially since this guy seems uncomfortable with me being here.
He rubs the back of his neck over the hood.
“Sorry, Daphne, but I can’t do that.”
Maybe if I play dumb, he’ll give me something I can work with to get the hell out of here alive. “You know my name?” I ask, hoping to sound genuinely surprised.
He drops his hand to nod. “I did my research. I knew you had an appointment with Connor McArthur tonight, so I arranged everything.”
He knew where I’d be? That… what? How? Anger pulses in my veins.
Violated. The thought of some psycho stranger knowing where I’d be makes me feel violated and exposed. And I don’t like anyone seeing me exposed.
“So, you admit that you planned on kidnapping me?”
He gives me one solitary nod.
Unbelievable. This can’t be happening.
“I do intend to let you go,” he says. “So, please don’t hurt yourself while you’re here. It’ll make my job a lot easier.” He says it with the utmost sincerity, like he genuinelydoesn’t want me to get hurt during a goddamn kidnapping.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
“Easier? Why the fuck should I make your job easier? Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone I was here.”
“Sorry, Princess. That’s not going to happen.”
Princess? Oh, he did not go there!
“Don’t call me that. And what’s your end game? Is it money? We have ransom insurance. Up to three million. Ask for it, don’t back down, and my dad will give it to you.”
He crosses his arms, and I can see the sleeves of his hoodie tighten around thickly muscled forearms.
“This isn’t about money, Princess. This is about something much, much bigger than a few million dollars.”
“And what’s that?”
“The health insurance bill your dad’s pushing to get through Congress. The one your boss is trying to corral votes for.”
“The bill…” Sifting through the slight haze, I remember Senator Furt talking about meetings with members of Congress to push through a bill that would put him in my dad’s favor. “You mean the Bradshaw Health for Americans Act?”
“Ding! Ding! Ding!” He raises a finger in the air with a flourish. “We have a winner.”
