The waiter pulls out my chair for me, and then hurries away to fill our requests for a matching pair of Long Island Iced Teas. Rory’s eyes swept up and down me in relief. “Oh my god, girlfriend, I thought you were dead. Or dying. Or being tortured.”

I grin at her. “Nothing that dramatic.”

“But the guy on the phone—” The waitress puts down our Long Island Iced Teas and Rory holds off talking until he disappears. “The guy on the phone said that you were being ransomed for two million dollars!” she hisses at me. “Who has two million dollars cash to give for you?”

I take a sip of my drink and let the alcohol buzz through my system for a moment. “No one,” I say cheerfully. “I was trying to tell him to say $200,000 because it seemed more realistic but he misunderstood my hand gestures and…well, it was rather sweet that you actually thought they were trying for so much.”

“Wha…you…you were choosing that amount as he was talking to me?” she finally sputters.

“Yeah,” I say with an easy grin.

Three…two…one…

“Rebecca Anne Whiting, I’m gonna kill you!” she half hollers, launching herself across the table at me. I’m laughing too hard to be able to dodge her effectively and eventually, the waiter shows back up, pulling Rory off me and telling us to keep it down. We're apparently disturbing the other patrons. I look around the restaurant—an inordinate amount of people are staring at us.

I settle back into my chair, straightening my top.

“What would make you do that?” she hisses, and she doesn’t look at all amused by this practical joke. I suddenly realize that I may have thought I was being funny as fuck, but that didn’t mean my best friend would agree with me.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, my eyes dropping to my half-spilled Long Island Iced Tea, sloshed around by our tussle. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Of course I was worried!” she yelps. “Seriously, I cannot believe this! What has gotten into you?” She leans back in her chair and just glares at me, shooting imaginary bullets at my head.

“I was kidnapped, at the beginning,” I say defensively. “Harlan—he’s the second in command of the Black Fist—needed a ride into the city because his Harley had been shot up by the Dark Tribe. He was trying to kidnap me just long enough to get to the Beth Israel Hospital so he could get some papers to Crankshaft, the president of the MC. But then…”

I draw in a deep breath, realizing I could say this next part without any pain slicing through me, and isn’t that just bizarre?

“I asked to stay kidnapped. At least for a few days. And we went back to Tye’s place to get some clothes and my phone charger, and he was fucking Candi, the high-end stripper who lives downstairs. And instead of feeling sad and awful and overwhelmed by it, it was like I was being set free from that life. I didn’t have to care about the rent or the utility bills anymore. I didn’t have to go to work because I’d been kidnapped. I didn’t have to worry, period."

I continue, “So then I started playing the part of a kidnap victim, making the guys answer any phone calls for me. I had to keep up the sham, because shiiiitttt, is Mr. Williford pissed. He’s not happy that I’ve been kidnapped and even though he’s trying to act as if he cares about my well-being, really all he’s worried about is who is going to take over that awful account out on Long Island if I don’t come back to work, pronto.”

I’m staring down at the tablecloth, drawing circles on the pattern, and say quietly, “I shouldn’t have lied to you, though. Sorry, Rory.” My voice is sincere, strained, and I look up at her pleadingly to find her smiling slightly at me.

“Only you would get kidnapped and then say, ‘Yes, please, give me more!’” She chuckles for a moment. “You really shouldn’t have lied to me though. Or had the guy lie to me. I’d come prepared today with a secret code so you could give me the location where they’re keeping you without them knowing it, and then I was going to have the cops come bust down the doors to save you. I had it all planned out in my head.”

“Very impressive,” I say appreciatively. “Remind me if I ever really do get kidnapped, to call you for some backup.”

“Deal,” she says with a wider grin this time.

We sip our drinks for a moment, and I motion the waiter for another round. He nods and heads toward the bar.

“So since you’re not in any mortal danger,” she says, “why don’t you tell me what it’s like to be in an MC clubhouse?”

After drinking and laughing our way through two more rounds of drinks and some appetizers, I decide to take Rory back to the clubhouse to show her around. Dragon and Ink, who have been guarding me this whole time, have each of us ride bitch with them rather than just take an Uber back, and I realize as we’re tearing down the road, that I should try this whole riding bitch thing with Harlan next time. Snuggling up against Dragon just isn’t the same as Harlan, even if they’re both bikers. Sure, he is sexy enough, but he isn’t Harlan.

Rory had fun that day with me; I knew she’d be a hit with all the guys—and all of the days she had off from work after that. Over the next two weeks, Rory is here, and some of my other friends are too, and I’m occasionally calling into work, whenever my “captors” allow me, and I’m just having fun with life in general. I know that I’m just escaping into this world of make believe, and I know that someday, it has to end, but that day hasn’t come yet, so I can ignore that reality for now.

Something I’m perfectly happy doing.

Speaking of being perfectly happy doing something…

Harlan. I know I’ve mentioned how damn sexy he is, but really, you just don’t understand until you’ve spent the whole night in his bed, being fucked in every hole and then some. We never do have more guys in bed with us like that first night, but I’m okay with that. I’m more than okay. I’m happy with Harlan. Despite the fact that he won’t let himself be wrapped around my little pinky finger like all the rest of the guys do—or maybe because of that—I can’t stop myself from wanting him.

From falling for him.

I know the rules of this game we’re playing; nothing here counts. It’s fun, it’s exciting, it’s an escape from life. I can’t fall for my “captor.” It breaks every rule and then some.

But I can’t seem to stop myself.

And that worries me.