Low came awake fists swinging. The darkness of his bedroom made it impossible to make out the figure pressing him down to the mattress with one hand over his mouth. Fear took a backseat to anger, because fuck that. He wasn’t going out without a fight.

He fought, twisting his body and kicking out as he tried to bite the hand over his nose and mouth. Something pressed to the side of his neck, and it took him a second to realize what it was.

A blade.

He froze, eyes opened as wide as possible. All he made out was the hulking shadow.

“Easy there.” The menacing whisper swamped him in goosebumps. “I need your cooperation.”

Low gulped. His body shook. His heart banged against his throat. He fisted his hands, nails cutting his palm as he tried to calm down. Tried to temper his breathing. That shit wasn’t working. There was a man in his bedroom holding a knife to his throat! This was the moment he wished he’d listened when his older brother, Andy, told him to get a personal weapon. But come on. He lived in Tucker, one of the safest areas in DeKalb. They’d had only two shootings the year before.

You’re about to be added to that list, fool. “What-what do you want?”

The intruder shifted backward and something landed on Low’s stomach. Clothes.

“Get dressed. Now.”

Jesus. No. “No. I-I have some money.” The words chased each other out his mouth. “Don’t do this, whoever you are.” He couldn’t see shit as he moved off the bed gingerly. “My-my wallet is over there. Take it.”

“Get dressed, Low.” The command came from the other figure he hadn’t even noticed standing at the other side of the bed.

He sucked in a breath. Two of them and they knew his name. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. “Who-Who are you guys?”

You’re wasting time.”

“Please, I don’t understand.” He hated that his voice came out so soft and hesitant. He hated that he didn’t know what was happening. “What do you want?”

“I already told you what I want.” The one with the knife stepped forward. Low couldn’t see his face in the shadows, but he was huge, towering over Low in both height and girth. “Turn around.”

Low closed his eyes, heart beating out of his chest as he tried to figure a way out. “Don’t do this.” The cold trembling got worse, fear a real and live thing coating his tongue. The baseball bat he kept close to the bed was on the other side, and there was no way he could get close to it with the other guy standing there. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what I ask, and you’ll be fine.” The knife glinted, catching a sliver of light when the intruder motioned with it. “Get dressed, and do it fucking quickly. We don’t have time to shoot the shit.”

The urgency in his tone sent a cold drip of anxiety down Low’s spine. He frowned, but when the second guy’s footfalls drew closer, he quickly pulled the t-shirt over his head then stepped into the jeans he’d been handed. The entire time he trembled, fear of the unknown drowning out every other thought in his head. He should fight, right? Put up a fight. He could handle himself in a fist fight, but this?

He was at a disadvantage, so what were his options? Cooperate and hope they spared his life? Fight back with the surety that they wouldn’t?

The second guy tossed something at his feet. Low’s sneakers. “Put those on.”

He bit his lip. This was happening. This was happening. Think, Low. Fucking think. “What do you want?” he demanded as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the pair of Jordans. “Tell me.”

“Let’s go.” The one holding the knife grabbed Low by the arm, yanking him upright. “We’re taking you outside.” The knife came up, the sharp tip grazing Low’s Adam’s apple.

He held his breath, eyes wide, trying not to move but unable to stop the shudders that rocked his body. Oh God. Oh God. This close, he made out a few details about Intruder One’s face. He was black, eyes something dark, hair cut into a dark Caesar. “Pl-Please. Don’t do this.”

“You make one sound when we get outside, you’ll be sorry. Do what I say and who knows…” He shrugged. “You might be surprised.”

“Let’s do this,” his companion muttered.

“Go.” The first one motioned for Low to walk out the bedroom.

He did, taking his time, lips pursed as he made his way to the front door.

“Hold up.” The second guy, whose features Low still couldn’t make out, stepped past him and opened the door. He walked out onto the dark porch and glanced around before pulling out a small gun from his waistband and waving Low on. “Black SUV.” He jerked his chin toward the vehicle parked on the other side of the street near the elementary school. “Go.”

Shit. Low stepped outside into the night, eyes widening as the guy used Low’s own damn keys to lock up behind them. He had so many questions, but he could follow the rules for now. He made himself keep silent as they herded him—one in the front with the gun, one in the back with the wicked blade—across the quiet street and over to the SUV.

Brockett Street where he lived was no hub of activity. It was a quiet neighborhood, everyone keeping to themselves. The most activity they got was during the school day. Tonight, the street looked like a ghost town, empty and dark. Nothing moving. Nobody to help Low if he was suicidal enough to call out.

He stopped short when the guy with the gun opened the back passenger side door and motioned for Low to enter. Don’t go with them, the authorities would say. Don’t let your attacker take you from point A. He knew this. The warning bells clanged, and he hesitated.

Useless. He was fucking useless.

“Get in.” The one with the knife barked at Low’s back. “If we truly wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

That was decidedly not a comforting thought.

He would regret it. Low just knew that. If he lived to see the sun come up, he’d regret getting into the fucking car. But goddamn it, he got into the car. Gun-toting dude slid in after him and held up something.

A strip of dark cloth.

“Turn around.”

“That’s not necessary. Please, I—”

“It’s not a request.”

No, it wasn’t. He twisted in the seat, gave the guy his back, and found himself in true darkness as his eyes were covered. That was a good sign, right? If they didn’t want him to see something, that meant he wasn’t going to die. Otherwise, why bother if they planned to kill him? Once he straightened, he was buckled in and they were off. With his vision hampered, he had no sense of direction. He only knew that they went straight down Brockett toward I-75, but he knew nothing about where they were headed.

They traveled in silence, neither of the men speaking. The radio wasn’t even on. He wondered who they were to come into his house so brazenly. To take him, blindfold him like they’d done. He didn’t associate with anyone who’d do that type of thing. He lived quietly, under the radar, afraid to make waves. That’s who he was. Why would these men target him?

He fisted his hands in his lap, squeezing until his fingers cramped. Being vulnerable like this, he didn’t know what to do. Not that he could do anything. Still, he felt he should have done something. Anything to avoid coming into this vehicle. Everything was out of his hands and that feeling terrified him. His mouth was bone-dry, and no matter how much he swallowed, nothing helped get the taste of fear off his tongue. These men, they could do anything to him and he’d willingly gone along.

Fuck. His nose stung and he bit down on his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

He thought about his family, what they would think if anything happened to him. His sister, Ronna, she’d be devastated. His siblings, too. His aunt, who’d take care of her? He’d promised at Kenton’s grave that he’d watch out for Tanty Ellen. Who would do it now? Everybody else had their lives.

Would his mother miss him? Would she finally tell the rest of the family why she kept Low at a distance?

He ran through all the things he regretted in his life.

Chance.

Renzo Vega.

Fuck.

They pulled to a stop finally and Low lifted his head, straining to hear anything. All he heard were the sounds of the night. He held himself still, refusing to take a breath as the car door opened and the man’s presence beside him disappeared. He didn’t hide the flinch when his door was yanked open.

“Come.” A strong hand grabbed his elbow, pulling him out.

He thought about fighting. Didn’t. Gravel crunched and rolled under his feet. He sniffed. All he smelled was trees. All he heard were the insects that came out to sing at night.

“Steps. Lift your feet.”

He allowed the man to guide him. As if he had any other choice. A key scratched in a lock. A door opened.

“Go.”

The gentle push propelled Low forward and he went, stumbling over his feet. The door closed behind him loud and final.

He shivered.

“Stay still.”

Seconds after the order, the blindfold disappeared.

Finally.

He blinked and a large empty room came into focus.

No, not empty. There was a couch, large enough to hold the person lying on it. Thrashing, actually. And his grunts, they were filled with pain.

Low frowned. Took a step forward.

“Help him.”

He ignored the threat in that order and took another step forward. He made out blood. Bloodied clothes on the floor. Bloodied bandages.

Blood.

“Who—” The person on the couch, his face came into view and Low stopped. “Renzo.” His throat closed up.

“He was shot. Twice.”

Low’s knees hit the floor.

Renzo was pale, damn near fucking colorless. Covered in sweat. Eyes closed, rugged face scrunched in a haggard grimace filled with pain. Low stared at him, at all that red spreading on the bandages on his lower thigh and arm.

Anger robbed him of speech. Anger and fear. Adrenaline, too. He’d never even suspected it, but this, this man was the reason he felt so fucking violated. This man was the reason he’d been stolen from his bed, knife to his throat.

Renzo Vega was the goddamn reason.

Always Renzo.

Fuck.

Was he supposed to forget who Renzo was? Kidnapping Low was supposed to endear Renzo to him? But something inside, that selfish and stupid part of him, wanted to wipe the sweat from Renzo’s brow. Wanted to smooth away the pain lines around his eyes and mouth. That part of Low curled into a ball with every grunt of pain Renzo uttered.

“Fix him.”

He lifted his head, gazing up at the large man towering over him, menace in every line of his body. The one with the knife. Low recognized him fully now. The guy always at Renzo’s side. The second guy, whoever he was, had disappeared without a sound. Low never even got to see his face. Did he fucking care?

He didn’t know if he could do this. He shook so badly and there was a sudden ache in his chest. He rubbed at it. What if he refused to help? Could he watch someone suffer?

It would make him as bad as Renzo Vega.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Dax.”

“He sent you for me.” It wasn’t a question. He simply needed confirmation.

“He was ambushed at the club,” Dax continued. “The only reason he’s not dead is because he wore a bulletproof vest. He was betrayed.”

Low held up a hand. “I don’t need to know. I don’t want to know.” He couldn’t begin to understand that kind of life.

“He trusts you. He knows how much you hate him, but he asked me to get you anyway.”

Low blinked.

“I know who you are,” Dax said. “I know how you feel about him.”

Well, that was funny. Because Low didn’t even know how he felt about Renzo. Especially after tonight. “I’m—I’m not an EMT anymore,” he muttered. “I quit two weeks ago.” Because he was thirty years old and still couldn’t figure out what he wanted to do with his life. But quitting his EMT gig had been the right thing to do. The hours were shitty, making it difficult for him to focus on his online college courses

Dax’s eyebrow shot up. “Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

No, it didn’t. Low exhaled loudly. “I’m helping him because I can’t watch anyone suffer, but I will never forget or forgive what you and he did to me tonight. Never.”

Dax shrugged. “I’m good with that.”

Of course he was. “I’m gonna need some things.”

“Hold up.” Dax turned away, walking out the room.

Low brought his gaze back to Renzo. Even in this position he was dangerous, out of his mind with pain, bleeding all over the camel-colored couch. Even in this position he made Low’s pulse race. Christ. He shook his head, mind quickly running through the stuff he might need.

“Here.”

He didn’t hear the big man return, but Dax was suddenly back at Low’s side. A large navy blue duffel bag in his grip.

“Everything you need should be in here.” Dax dropped the bag at Low’s feet, and Low quickly inspected the contents.

It was filled with medical supplies and tools. Basically everything Low would need. When Low gaped up at him, Dax lifted a shoulder.

“Not our first rodeo.”