Except he was no longer standing.
He was sliding down the wall.
Not falling, not the sudden, angular collapse of someone struck or startled, falling to their knees in a sudden drop. Nor a sudden collapse to the side, legs giving out on him. No, he eased down the wall with the slow, boneless quality of someone whose legs had simply stopped receiving messages from his brain to stay on his feet. And then he slumped on the floor, gradually and without drama, the little coffee he had left spilling out beside him, spreading across the grungy linoleum floor.
Then she saw a young man in scrubs standing beside Nash’s prone body, his face unremarkable, someone whom no one would ever give a second look because he appeared to belong. However, the look he shot her screamed at her that he didn’t belong as she spun to face him, her fists clenched.
She never saw the second man behind her until it was too late, and by then, he had a firm hand over her mouth, pressing a cloth to her face. She reached up, her hands gripping his arm,trying to yank it away, but he was too strong, too determined. The pleasant, sweet smell of chloroform filled her, almost choking her as the burning taste covered her lips. She tried to cry out, but the cloth over her mouth kept her from managing to get out more than a muffled grunt. Then the corridor went soft at the edges, fading inward as if she were falling asleep. Her final thought before being swallowed by unconsciousness was that Bobby would not be happy.
SHE WASN’T SURE HOW long she was out as consciousness slowly peeled the fog away from her brain. She felt the movement first, the low rumble of a vehicle in motion, felt the road passing underneath, heard the roar of tires on asphalt. Then she felt the pinch to her wrists, something digging into her flesh. She tried to move her arms, but her wrists remained glued together. She pried her eyes open and stared out a tinted window with trees zipping past. She recognized nothing—not the leather seat she slumped in, not the view outside the window, not even the voices of someone mumbling in the front seat.
She didn’t open her eyes all the way, trying to keep whoever was with her from knowing she was awake. She needed time to think, to figure out what the hell happened. The last thing she remembered was seeing Nash sprawled on the hospital floor, a nurse standing beside him.
She could feel the heat from someone beside her and noticed two more in the front seat, both focused on the road in front of them as they talked. She had no idea where they were taking her, but she could guess to whom they were taking her.
She tightened her nerves, knowing that staying quiet wouldn’t get her any of the answers she needed. Taking a slow breath, she opened her eyes, forcing herself to sit up in her seat.
The men in the front seat ignored her, except for the driver cutting a quick glance in the rearview mirror. However, when she turned to look at the man beside her, her breath caught as she felt her eyes widen.
Matteo Serrano. She knew it was him from a photo Blaze had pulled up back at the hotel, and she had made sure to memorize it for when she knew she would have to confront him. In his mid-thirties with dark hair, he sat there watching her, his posture relaxed and his hands clasped together in his lap, knowing he held all the power at the moment. He wore a dark gray suit, the kind she had seen evil men in movies wear, and he stared at her with a smirk in his eyes.
“Hello, Miss Moretti,” he said. His voice matched his posture, calm, obviously in no hurry. “Or is it Miss Rhodes now?” He shrugged, a slow bump of his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter. I must apologize for the theatrics of the day. It would have really been much simpler if you had simply talked to us back in Biloxi. I find all this drama tedious, to be honest, when the end result will be the same.”
She sat up straighter, saying nothing. Glancing at her wrists, she noticed the zip ties binding them together—in front, rather than behind her back. That could be beneficial at some point. She just had to figure out when and how.
He glanced out his window as he picked at some invisible piece of lint on his slacks. “I do not intend to hurt you, Julia.” The man sounded like someone conducting a business meeting rather than someone who had just kidnapped her out of a hospital.
“And just what do you intend?” She turned her back to the door so she could face him better.
“Just a simple conversation,” he said. “That’s not too much to ask, is it? I merely want you to arrange a conversation between your mother and myself. You should be able to make that happen.”
She felt the drop in her stomach as she stared at him, but she made sure it didn’t show on her face. “My mother has nothing left to say to your family. What’s done is done. It’s best you simply move on.”
“I can see where you both might think that, but I’d really like to hear from her.” He cocked his head to the side as he looked back at her. “I do believe she owes my family that much. Owes me for taking my father away from me.”
She stared at him, taking in his calm demeanor, the lack of menace to make her feel threatened and in fear of her life. He merely sat there, talking to her as if she was the answer to his problem and he was simply asking for her help. And that’s what frightened her the most. How calm he was.
“The case is over,” she said, still not sure what they hoped to achieve. “There’s nothing she can do to help your father, and nothing else she knows about your… business dealings. You’re wasting your time.”
“Be that as it may, it’s still my time to waste. And as I said, your mother owes my family, and we intend to collect.”
She kept staring at him, knowing she had to be missing something. “I heard your father could get out early. Is this really worth risking that?”
He shrugged. “There are no guarantees in life, and my father prefers the sure thing. You see, he worries that your mother might have something that could… ruin his chances of getting out.” He brushed at his leg, dropping his gaze for a moment. “We merely want assurances.”
She felt her brow pinch. “You think my mom has held onto something?” She shook her head, scoffing. “If she had anything,she would have turned it over back then. What would be the point of her holding onto it all these years?”
“I appreciate your position, but as I said, we’d like to talk to her ourselves to verify.”
She dropped her gaze to Matteo’s waist, noticing the lack of a gun. It didn’t matter; she was sure his men were well-armed. “I don’t believe you.” She glanced around the vehicle’s interior, looking for anything that would give her an advantage. “I think what you really want is to hand my mother over to your father to gain some type of favor with him.”
He didn’t deny it.
The man in the front passenger seat glanced at her through the rearview mirror, while the driver remained focused on the road ahead. She glanced back at Matteo, wondering what would happen if she lunged for the man.
“Where are we going?” she asked, glancing back out the window.
“Somewhere where we can talk.”
