The line rings a few times before he finally answers. “Easton,” he greets.
“Where is she?” I try to keep my voice level and calm.
“I’m not sure whosheis so I can’t help you.” I can almost hear the smile in his voice.
My hand tightens around my device as I press it harder into my ear. “I’m not fucking around, Dad. You either tell me or I come find her myself, which we both know won’t be pretty.”
He’s a fool to think I don’t know him better. He takes what we want and makes it his until we behave, and frankly, that’s not a game I’m interested in playing right now. I mean, I should have known there would be some repercussions to my actions from earlier, but this is too fucking far.
He remains silent, and it does nothing but fuel my anger.
“I’m not stupid. You did this with Ken when she wanted to act out, so tell me where Arloe is or I promise you I will come to your house when you’re not expecting it and snap the neck of your precious little ball sac of a cat.”
“Resulting to threats now?” he finally speaks.
“It’s not a fucking threat. You took something I loved, and in return, I’ll take something you love.”
He laughs. “Now you love the girl?”
“Where. Is. She.”
“I’m not sure what else you expect me to say. I don’t have her. The whore is useless to me, son.”
I open my mouth to spit back. How dare he talk aboutmywoman like that. He has no fucking right. But just as soon as the words start to slip, a man lingering in front of my shop turns around.
I end the call with my dad and stuff the phone back in my pocket before hurrying to where he stands. “What the fuck are you doing here, Barron?”
Normally, I never see anyone I persuade unless I make it happen. Him being here is a complication. A curveball. And I don’t like it.
His eyes shoot to mine, and instead of fear, his features scream reluctance.
“Speak the fuck up. I’m not in the mood.”
He sucks in a breath then glances around, making sure no passerby is within earshot. “I messed up. They took my daughter.”
Chapter Seventeen
Arloe
“Just tie her to the fucking chair,” one of my captors directs to the other. His voice is deep and growl-like, every syllable that falls from his lips vibrating through me.
As I’m yanked further into the space and forced into a seat, I fidget to get free. My nerves are all over the place, I can’t hear anything other than their ragged breaths, and have no idea where I am or what they want from me. One of the men tugs my arms behind me and aggressively binds my hands.
The irony of this position hits me hard. It was only a few hours ago that I came with my hands behind my back. Now all I feel is fear. The chair is hard and cold and feels like metal to my touch.
“W-where am I? What do you want?” I manage to get out around my frenzied nerves.
Everything happened so fast. One minute I was arguing with my dad, and the next I was staring down the barrel of a gun. Two men stood in front of me, the last imagery I have before they blindfolded me. So I recall their appearance over and over in my mind. It’ll be the only leverage I’ll have should I get out of this mess.
One is tall and fit with a bald head. On his left cheek is a scar that looks just as old as he does. The other is shorter, stocky, and wears his low-cut fade in the ugliest shade of orange. He didn’t have any imperfections that I could see aside from his hair. Different in stature but equally scary.
“So what do you want to do with her?” I hear the one who’s directly behind me speak.
“Would you shut the fuck up and let me think?” the first man barks, and I flinch; the sound of his voice sets me on edge.
“Please. I don’t know who you are or what you want, but let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I swear,” I plead, but it goes unanswered.
For what feels like forever, the room is quiet. The only thing I’m able to focus on is the smell. The drive from my place wasn’t very long, so I try to pinpoint all the buildings we might have passed. I live in the inner city and in a not-so-great neighborhood. Then I remember them dragging me up two flights of stairs before finally shoving me into this room.
