There’s this thing that happens when you’re stripped of all sense of time and place, where time drags and flies at the same time. Despite my best efforts to stay awake, there were times exhaustion took over, and my eyes slid closed here and there, which only further skewed my sense of the present. Onetime I woke up, and it was light outside but the house and the block beyond were quiet like it was early morning. Another time it was night, but it sounded like the world was awake. And then nighttime came and stayed for what felt like an entire week.
I had no idea how long I’d actually been in that room, but I knew at least three days had come and gone. I knew that Diego had entered the room eleven times.
Eleven fucking times.
The twelfth time, was etched into my memory. The stocky man arrived with more food and my backpack. My heart hitched at the sight of the familiar bag, unzipped and rifled through, but mine. “Thank you,” I said softly, hating how fucking grateful I sounded for my own belongings.
Some things just never change,I thought, remembering the half-dozen times I’d packed up and moved to a new home during my short stint in foster care.
The man said nothing.
“Do you know what day it is or how long I’ve been here?”
His gaze met mine, dark and blank. And utterly fucking silent.
“Great. Thanks for nothin’.” I stared him down while he set down the takeout box of food and my backpack, slowly backing out of the room like he thought I might make a move.
Not fucking likely.
I closed my eyes and waited for thesnickof the lock but it never came. My eyes shot open and my heart raced as I looked around the room, certain I was being pranked. When nothing happened, I fell to my knees and opened the backpack, but ofcourse my cell phone wasn’t in there. “Dammit,” I whispered, finding everything else—notebooks, sketchbook, heels, water, and granola bars—inside. Just not my phone.
The door opened quickly and I fell backward in my rush to get away from certain danger.
“Oh, sorry,” the familiar voice said.
“Lewis? What are you doing here?” A horrible thought occurred and I slid back until my head hit the windowsill. Lewis, my kind boss… Why was he here? Did he know Diego was holding me? Had he known all along? “Lewis?” My voice cracked on his name, accusation bleeding into the words.
He stopped dead, the color draining from his face as his eyes locked on me—really locked on me. “What—” He looked over his shoulder, then back at me like he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. “What are you doing here? I’ve been calling you for a week.” His voice rose on the last word, thin and tight.
My eyes bugged out. “A week? I’ve been in here a week?” The room tilted. “It feels like it’s been longer. Or shorter. I don’t—” My stomach churned and suspicion crept in despite myself. “You’ve been calling? Why?”
“Because you disappeared,” he shot back, horror sharpening his tone. “Because you didn’t show up for work. Because you don’t just vanish.” He ran a shaking hand over his mouth, staring at the bruises on my arms like they were something he’d done himself.
“Why are you here?” I pressed, my heart hammering. “Did he call you? Did you know?”
He recoiled like I’d slapped him. “Know?” His voice dropped, rough and disbelieving. “Know that he—” He glancedaround the room, taking it in fully now—the barred window, the mattress, me. His face twisted. “Jesus.”
I swallowed. “Your client, Diego, kidnapped me when I left the grocery store the last time we saw each other.”
His eyes widened with something far stronger than surprise—rage and fear tangling together. “He what?” The words came out strangled. “Ah, hell.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw flexing hard. “I knew he was trouble, but this—” He exhaled sharply, almost a shudder. “I am so sorry.” He sounded wrecked, and any suspicions I had about his involvement vanished. But that still didn’t change my predicament. And now that Lewis had seen me, he would be in danger too.
“I’ll get you out of here,” he said, opening his eyes again. There was no hesitation now, just grim resolve.
Hope leapt in my chest. “Really?”
“Of course.” His voice was fierce, low. “I should’ve trusted my gut. I should’ve made you leave the office when he came in with those eyes. I should’ve—” He cut himself off and raked a hand through his thinning hair. It trembled. “I’m parked near the side entrance, you’re directly above. If you can get out the window it gives you about a six-foot jump. Think you can handle that?”
“Considering this might be my only chance, yeah. I can.”
He nodded, but he didn’t move right away. His eyes lingered on me before he slowly started backing out of the room. “I’m sorry,” he said again, rougher this time.
I held up a hand, though it trembled. “Not your fault,” I said, then couldn’t stop myself. “But it might’ve been helpful to know you were working for a cartel.”
His jaw tightened. “I wasn’t working for a cartel,” he shot back under his breath, glancing down the hall. Then, more grudgingly, “I didn’t have much choice.”
That didn’t answer the question.
“Keys are in the ignition,” he said, and pulled the door shut behind him.
