I lie back on the black leather couch with a happy grin on my face. Another day of being kidnapped, another day of no responsibility. This is a life I can get used to. My boss is stymied because I refuse to tell him where I’m at, saying that the gang is just too scary to allow me to say anything, and I had Harlan return the minivan in the middle of the night to the car rental place, shoving the keys down the return chute before heading back to the clubhouse.

I’ve turned off every piece of tracking technology in my phone so I can turn it back on and keep it on. I don’t want to completely lose track of the outside world, after all.

Truthfully, I had no idea it was so much fun to play hooky. No wonder Tye didn’t work for a month after he was fired. If every day meant just laying around, drinking, and laughing, I wouldn’t go to work ever again either.

Since I don’t have rent or utility payments anymore, I can live on my savings for a good long while. Just sit around here, use up some vacation time, and chillax. Something I’m not very good at doing, and that’s something I'm only just now discovering. I didn’t know I was wound so tight, until I started to unwind.

A small part of my brain says that I know I have to go to back to reality at some point, but that point isn’t today.

And that, plus the Piña Sunrise cocktails they’ve been feeding me, has me feeling pretty good.

I check my caller ID when my iPhone starts ringing and realize that it’s Rory. One of my closest friends, she’s probably wanting to know if we can go out for drinks or something. With a grin, I toss my phone to Dragon, who fumbles while catching it before finally righting it in his hands.

“Tell her I’ve been kidnapped,” I say in stage-whisper, pointing at the phone. He looks down at the phone and back up at me, and I nod encouragingly.

“He-hello,” he says hesitantly.

That’s not going to do. I mime a big burly man striding down the street, then point at my (non)-existent biceps. He nods.

“Yeah, you got Becca’s phone,” he says threateningly.

Much better.

I give him a huge grin and a thumbs up. He grins back at me and then barks into the phone, “Who’s asking? Rory? Well, Rory, your friend here has been kidnapped by the big, badass Black Fist. Yeah, that’s me, and about 50 other guys.”

Pause.

I can hear a small, scratchy voice coming out of the phone, but not loud enough to know what she’s saying. I lean forward, fascinated. I wish I was a fly on the wall of Rory’s apartment right now; she’s probably going ballistic.

She’ll think this is funny … someday.

“It ain’t my fault you never heard of the Black Fist.” I muffle a laugh into my pillow.

“Why’d we kidnap her?” His eyes shoot over to me, wide and panicked, and I hold up my fingers and rub them together in the universal sign for money. “For ransom, of course.”

More shouting.

“How much?” he repeats, staring at me. I hold up two fingers.

“Two million dollars,” he says triumphantly.

I’d meant $200,000, but sure, a cool two mil sounded even better. Damn, I have one hot ass. I spend a quick moment trying to think of who would actually pay two mil for me, but give up with a shrug. This story is going to be epic one day.

Ink comes back into the room with another Piña Sunrise in his hand, an umbrella floating on the top as instructed. These guys sure know how to follow orders. When I’d first asked for a Piña Sunrise, I just got a round of blank stares, but after some instructions, they finally got it down pat. I took a sip with a happy sigh, leaning back into the pillows.

Now this is the life.

“Can she meet you at the Russian Tea for drinks tomorrow?” Dragon repeats, staring at me for an answer. I hesitate for just a moment and then shrug. Sure. It’d be fun. Then I could bring her back here and the guys could all sit around and drool over her too. Her rack is even bigger than mine, so the guys will be happy to drool all over them.

“Yeah, she’ll meet you there at…”

I hold up five fingers.

“…five tomorrow,” he says.

Right then, Harlan bursts into the room and glares at me, glares at Dragon, and even glares at poor Ink, even though all he did was bring me a really tasty drink. I take another appreciative sip just as Harlan swipes the phone from Dragon and hits the end call button.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” I demand, and then he has the balls to slam my phone down on the desk, take my drink away from me, and drag me back to his bedroom, slamming the door behind us as we go.

Uh-oh…