The motel.
That has to be where they brought me. Suddenly my available senses kick in, and every sound, every whisper, every smell assaults me all at once.
Urine.
That’s the first thing I recognize. The pungent ammonia scent makes me sick to my stomach. There’s a mixture of other smells—stale beer, the metallic aroma of dried blood—and if I had to guess, the carpet is one of the filthiest things in here.
They’re talking, their voices ping-pong off the walls, so I know that wherever we are, it’s small. Someone moves, and it sounds as if they are directly behind me again. I flinch, trying to get away, even though I know it’s pointless.
“Dial his number,” the guy with the deep voice orders.
He’s whispering, but I can still make out what is being said, another clue that we are indeed in close quarters. If only I could see, then I could figure out how to get away from them, whoever they are.
My mind races a mile a minute as I try to make sense of all that’s going on. I’ve been in this town a little over six months and never ran into trouble. And not once since they’ve taken me captive have they given any insight into what it is they’re looking for.
I follow the rules and am a law-abiding citizen, I donate books and readings to the city’s children program. Why is this happening to me? What could they possibly want?
“Hello?” I question, but I know they’re here, I can hear them breathing. “I don’t have any money if that’s what you’re after,” I admit.
Shit. Shit. What am I doing? They’ll probably kill me quicker knowing that I’m useless to them.
“But I can get you whatever you want.”
“Oh yeah?” It’s a different voice this time, and it’s coming from my right.
I duck to the left, aiming to put even the tiniest bit of space between me and him. My pulse quickens as bile builds in my throat. Sweat forms above my brow, droplets trailing my face, stopping at the blindfold. Tears prick my eyes, and I’m thankful they can’t see how afraid I actually am.
If there is one thing I learned from reading and from being with Easton, is that you never let them see how scared you are. It’ll give them the leverage they need to do what they will with you. A scared man is a weak man, a man who would sell his firstborn to save his own skin.
Strength.
That’s what I need—to appear strong because then maybe they’ll be willing to hear me out. They want something, clearly, or else they wouldn’t have kidnapped me. But what? Do they know who my father is, or is it…no, I won’t let my mind go there.
Easton cares for me. He wouldn’t send his men to do this to me. Not after everything we’ve been through together. He’d protect me, he’d make these bastards pay, whoever they are—if only he knew where I was.
They were smart. I was blindfolded almost instantly, and they made sure not to bring anything with me. No keys, no phone, not even a change of clothes. I’m still in the nightie I wore to bed. The realization that I’m basically half-naked in front of dangerous men in some strange location hits me hard. All the things I just told myself about strength melt away with my racing heart.
Oh, God, please.I pray silently, my lips trembling with each word.
“What is it you think we want?” He’s closer to me now, his hot breath blowing my hair.
I crane my neck to get away from him, but all he does is follow me, his mouth now so close to my ear, he touches me when he speaks.
“You don’t know shit, do you?” He runs his fingers over my skin before toying with my hair.
“Would you stop fucking playing around?” the first guy barks.
The person taunting me doesn’t budge. He’s still watching the side of my face, I can feel him there. My throat bobs from the harsh swallow I take as I squeeze my eyes shut under the blindfold.
Nothing is going to get me out of this. No one is going to find me. And later I’ll be found tied to this chair dead from fear, if they don’t off me first.
“I want to know what she can get us,” he continues teasing me. “Tell me, sweetheart, how much do you think you’re worth?”
I swallow again, still shying away, but the more I do, the closer he gets to me.
“Did you know your daddy set this entire thing up?”
My spine stiffens at the mention of my father. Is that why he came to my apartment? It’s been months since we’ve seen each other without even so much as a phone call. Is this why he wanted me to leave with him so badly? He paid these men to what—hurt me? Did he have a change of heart and wanted to get me away before they showed up?
