“She’s got a brain in her head. She put two and two together. Said you used to talk about me. Made her feel like she could trust me.”
“She trusted you, all right. You charmed your way right into her damn bed.” My Pops sounds none too pleased. Too fucking bad.
“It wasn’t paradise island right off the bat, if that makes you feel any better.”
“Not a fucking lick.”
I pull the cotton balls off my eyes. “She’s my fuckin’ girl now, and you’re just gonna have to deal with that.” Fender’s remedy is finally working, cause my vision is starting to improve. I can see the room and everyone in it a bit more clearly.
“Right now, I’m not worried about who she belongs to, I’m just worried about getting her back.” My father begins to pace. He looks so different and exactly the same. Still commanding, still assertive, still in control, except now he’s looks like he’s been photoshopped like those models you see on the Harley Davidson website. Put together cleanly, not a hair out of place. Refined and rugged all at the same time. Before Kristen, he constantly had motor oil smudged on his clothes or on his face and couldn’t care less who it bothered. Now, there isn’t a speck of dust on him.
“At least we can agree about that,” I mumble.
“It’s a start,” Breaker interjects. The tension is running sky high in the house.
A suffering silence descends upon all of us. We’re left with no options and no clues. I’ve never felt so helpless, not even when my MRAP rolled over an IED in Afghanistan and all seemed lost. Men were wounded all around me, but even then, there was an exit strategy. Procedures in place. This situation feels like guerilla warfare. There’s no rhyme or reason, just ambush, sabotage, and raids.
And all that’s left to do now is sit in the jungle and wait.
Wait for the enemy to make his next move.
Wait for an opportunity to strike back.
Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait . . .
21
Kira
I cometo in a strange room.
My head hurts, and I feel a little woozy, but the zip ties biting into my wrists are what’s alarming me the most.
I’m tied to a chair, alone, confused, and most definitely terrified.
I gaze out the huge, double glass doors directly in front of me, trying to figure out where I am, but all I see are trees. Trees everywhere, with no inkling of civilization in sight.
Bits and pieces of the whirlwind that happened earlier come back to me slowly. I remember hearing Ky scream to run. A man blocking me by the stairs. I tried to fight him off, but he overpowered me. The image of Ky helpless on the ground. Being hauled away into a strange car. Then something was put over my nose and mouth, and that’s the last thing I remember. My heart is hammering so hard from the recollection I could be an abandoned pet on death row.
I need to escape. Survive and escape. Trying to free myself from the binds, I pull as hard as I can, a miserable attempt to slip my wrists out of the ties.
“C’mon, c’mon.” I yank and jerk until my skin is rubbed raw. “Fuck.” This is not working. They’re way too tight. I begin to panic. I need to get out.
In the midst of my very unsuccessful attempt at escape, I hear footsteps. Heavy, horrid, harrowing footsteps.
The room I’m being held captive in seems to be the heart of the house. Stashed in the living room of what I think is a log cabin.
“She’s conscious,” a deep voice rumbles from behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. I hate whoever he is already.
He comes into view, and I recognize him. An older man with greying brown hair, a thick beard, and slim figure. He actually looks more sickly now than I remember from a month ago. His skin is saggy and pale, and there are purple bags under his eyes.
“Hey, princess.” He leans on the arms of the chair, his face disgustingly close to mine.
I jerk my head back, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.
“You are a pretty one.” He touches my cheek, and I fight with my digestive tract not to vomit. “I thoroughly enjoyed the little chat we had. You were quite the hospitable host.” He stands upright and crosses his faded tattooed arms.
“I was trying to be polite. What a mistake.”
