I ran a hand through my tangled hair, then took a sip of my coffee. “How the hell did you find him?”

Ryder gave me his usual half shrug. “Would you believe me if I said old prison contacts? Us ex-cons like to hang out and gossip.”

“Like a group of grannies?”

“Something like that. Except, instead of at Sunday knitting club, think dark, filthy bars.”

“Gotcha. And you found Tony in one of those bars?”

Ryder nodded. “Pissed drunk at eleven in the morning. Barely coherent.”

“And then?” I prodded.

Ryder snickered. “Do you want to hear what really happened or the watered-down version?”

“I need all the gory details,” I said, a morbid curiosity slithering through me.

“Dumped a beer on him, then dealt a swift uppercut to his jaw. When he woke up, I told him to leave you the fuck alone, and that if he ever came within fifty feet of you again, I’d twist his nuts off and feed them to him.”

I gasped. “No! You didn’t do that.”

“I did. And I was very persuasive, it seems.” The smug smile on Ryder’s face was usually off-putting on other men, but on him, it worked.

I shook my head again, unable to accept my new reality. A stalker-free reality. “I just can’t believe—”

“Sorry, I didn’t know you needed evidence. I thought the fact that Tony’s left you well alone for the past little while would be proof enough.”

“I—Thank you, Ryder. It…I feel like I finally have space to breathe again.”

“I didn’t do it for free, lady. You need to fulfill your end of the bargain now,” Ryder clucked. He peeled off the plastic wrapper of his Magnum popsicle and tossed it away. Then, he took a large bite out of the dark chocolate tip and swirled it in his mouth.

“Of course.” I took a sip of my coffee and blanched. It had gone almost stone cold. I should’ve gotten an iced coffee instead. I pushed the cup to one side and rested my elbows on the rectangular table between us. In a lowered, conspiratorial voice, I said, “I was thinking, it’d be easier to make my dad give up the evidence rather than try to find it ourselves.”

Ryder took another bite of his popsicle, this time from the side. “Okay, why would he do that?”

“Because you’ve kidnapped his only child?” I suggested. It had been the best plan I could come up with, and it was dangerous, but if it succeeded…

“Kidnapping is a felony. If I get arrested again…”

“If my dad is as crooked as you say, he’d never involve the cops. He’d want to handle it quietly. Again, he doesn’t want a scandal, remember? The Nexicore product launch is in four days. It’ll be perfect.”

“You have a point. Keep going.”

“Instead of a ransom, you ask for him to turn himself in, no strings attached. And get him to explain what happened to you all those years ago. And what happened to Orielle. If he doesn’t, you threaten to sell me to the highest bidder or kill me.”

“And what if you’re wrong and I get arrested? Or he calls our bluff?” Ryder asked, suspicion clouding his dark features.

“I won’t testify against you,” I promised. “I’ll tell them the truth, that it was my plan all along.”

“Your plan sounds iffy at best,” Ryder said, rubbing his neck. “It could backfire on the both of us. I don’t know, Cally.”

“You got a better one?” I challenged, tearing up my coffee cup sleeve. He had to accept my plan.

Ryder rolled his eyes. “How will we deliver the ransom note without getting caught?”

“Snail mail.”

Ryder chuckled. “Okay. What if your dad is so heartless he’d rather see you die than give himself up?”

Why was he so damned skeptical? “What if the sun disappears tomorrow? What if Martians pop over and eat our brains?”

Ryder brought his fingers to his mouth and began biting his nails. I realized that all the nails on his right hand had been bitten down to the quick. After a moment, he looked back up at me and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“First, we need some duct tape and rope,” I said.

“Why?”

“It needs to look realistic when you take the picture.”

“What picture?”

“For an ex-con, you’re not really good with the criminal thing.” I almost smirked. He was clueless, which made him weak. “My dad will want proof that you’ve got me and that I’m still alive. Ever read crime novels? It’s called proof of life. We’ll send him a nice photo along with the note.”

* * *

As we drove towards Home Hardware, Ryder kept shifting in his seat, clearly perturbed that I’d come up with a plan like this. As we turned down Crescent Ridge, he asked, “Why the change of heart? I have a hard time believing that one outburst from your dad over that photo of Orielle led you to do a total one-eighty and switch teams. He is your dad.”

“A deal’s a deal, isn’t it? I’m a woman of my word.”

“Your mom…she’ll freak out,” Ryder said. “Isn’t she sick or something?”

“She’s fine. She’ll be fine.” Not to mention she couldn’t care less what happened to me. She was too busy throwing herself a pity party because she’d recently been diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder by her $300/hour shrink.

“Does anyone else know about this plan? Other than you and me?”

“Nope. Just us.”

“You nervous? You’re sweating like crazy,” Ryder pointed out.

I tapped my index finger against the steering wheel. “Of course I’m nervous. Who wouldn’t be? I don’t exactly do shit like this every day, you know.”

“Fair enough. Turn here, Cally. There’s a free spot down on the left.”

After I parked my recently repaired Porsche, I turned to Ryder. “After all of this is over, I don’t want us to ever cross paths again.”

Ryder clutched his chest mockingly. “I’m hurt, sweetheart.”

“You can’t possibly be so thick that you’d think we’d have a future after all of this, do you?” I said, my tone sharp as a switchblade. I was fulfilling my promise, but if he thought I’d bend like a willow and snap like a twig, he had another thing coming.

Ryder’s curled finger brushed my cheek, and I flinched. “And here I thought we could be friends.”

“In the past week, you’ve turned my life completely upside down. We can never be friends.” I opened my door, desperate for fresh air.

“So you would’ve preferred to live in ignorance? Rather than find out the truth?”

The truth? More like his truth. He was in the dark about everything just as much as I was. Maybe Dad wasn’t completely innocent, but he definitely wasn’t a murderer. Maybe my father wasn’t squeaky clean, but who was in this goddamn city? One thing was certain, though—Ryder had been lying to me from the get-go, and I wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

* * *

“You want the Gorilla brand,” I said, holding up a roll of silver duct tape. “Not that cheap crap that barely even sticks.”

Ryder put down the No Name brand and picked up its heavy-duty counterpart. “You sound like you use duct tape a lot.”

I tossed my roll of tape into the shopping cart. “You’d be surprised how useful it is. I once duct-taped a leaky pipe together and it lasted three more days till the plumber came and fixed it.”

“Beautiful and handy with tools. I like you more and more each time we meet. You sure we don’t have a future together?” Ryder added another roll to the cart.

“Eyes straight ahead, buddy. Just grab and go.” I made a few gestures with my fingers and Ryder laughed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Watching Ryder push around a bright orange cart filled with items he’d later use to kidnap me was so comical I couldn’t help but laugh too.

“What’s so funny?”

I pointed to the shopping cart, then the store in general. “This—everything. A bit ridiculous and unreal, isn’t it?”

Ryder’s face slipped into solemnity. “The tape felt real enough when I held it earlier. You sure you want to go through with this?”

“Definitely.” I looked up at the dangling aisle signs. “Rope is in aisle two.”

Ryder picked up a bag of black zip straps. “Should I use these instead? So you don’t get rope burn? I’d hate to damage your soft skin.”

I couldn’t tell whether he was serious or not. Why would he care about physically hurting me when he’d already lied to my face since day one? “Okay, fine, those will work.” As I watched him toss the zip straps into the cart, my heart skipped a beat. If Ryder decided to turn the tables on me at any point and kidnap me for real, I wouldn’t be able to escape. I knew my way around a rope, after years of sailing and camping, but a zip strap would be almost impossible to take off.

Ryder held up a checkered bandana next. “How about a blindfold, for effect?” He was grinning, and it didn’t seem malicious, but I felt cold sweat drip down my neck. I nodded mutely and he tossed a pack of two into the cart. “Is that everything?”

“Well, you might want to think about where we’ll stage this little photoshoot. It should look realistic, you know? Like an abandoned warehouse or something. I’ve got a few suggestions—”

“Don’t worry, I know the perfect place.”

“Where?” My heart hammered; I was losing control over the situation. If he decided where we ended up, then he’d have the upper hand.

“It’ll be a surprise.” Aaaand his cocky grin was back.

“None of this is real, so just tell me where it is.” Panic chewed on my stomach lining, and I felt nauseous. What was he playing at?

“I call it Torture Alley,” Ryder whispered. “It’s where I take all my victims. The walls are permanently stained with their blood.” His ensuing fake villain laugh made me cringe. He looked like he was making a joke, but all of a sudden I wasn’t sure. None of this felt light-hearted or even remotely amusing anymore. It seemed too real in that moment, and that made things feel heavy. Too heavy.

“Seriously, cut it out, Ryder.”

“Need I remind you this game was all your idea? Shouldn’t you have figured out a location?”

“I have a storage unit,” I suggested, praying he’d take the bait. “I’m keeping some of my larger furniture items there since they wouldn’t fit in my condo.”

“Nah, they’ll figure that out in a second,” Ryder said. “Why the hell would I take you there? Doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, do you have a better plan?”

“I think I might know just the spot.”

“Where?” I asked again. I needed to know as many details as possible so I could prepare myself.

“I’m in charge, so I call the shots,” Ryder said, winking. “The less you know, the more realistic this whole thing will be.”

He made a fair point, and I didn’t want to argue further, in case he got suspicious. At checkout, I swiped my credit card on autopilot. I was too consumed by thoughts of where Ryder might take me and how I’d react if he took things too far.

Once we returned to the car with our bag full of supplies, I asked, “When do you want to do this? How does tomorrow sound?”

“No time like the present. Why don’t we start right now?” Before I could even react, Ryder pinned me against the side of my car with his right knee and brought my wrists together. I struggled against his grasp, but he easily overpowered me. “Why are you struggling, Cally? I thought you wanted this?” he breathed in my ear.

Fear made me dizzy. “Why now? Why not later, when we get there?” I grunted.

“It has to seem realistic. I need to capture that frightened look on your face, you know? For the cameras. You can’t fake fear, sweetheart.”

“What the hell?” I clenched my teeth and hissed. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

“I love tying women up, didn’t you know?” Then, he let out a low growl that was more wolf-like than human. The sound hummed through me, making me shiver.

Again, I couldn’t tell if the asshole was being serious or not. “At least give me some wriggle room.”

“That would defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it?” With that, Ryder bound my arms together with the zip straps I’d purchased moments earlier. A trio of teenage boys passing by whistled. “Get a room!”

I wanted to cry for help. If I didn’t react now, I’d be completely at Ryder’s mercy. Real or not, this could end badly for me. But somehow I’d become mute with terror, and my only chance slipped away.

Ryder squeezed my tense shoulders. “How does it feel?”

“Shitty,” I ground out. The plastic ties bit into my flesh. The bastard had pulled them impossibly tight. I still had no idea what was happening. Was this technically a part of our plan? Or had he taken the reins and initiated a real kidnapping?

“Good. Then I’m doing my job right,” Ryder snickered. I felt him palm my right ass cheek. Then my left.

“What the hell?” I snarled, writhing against him.

“I need your keys if I’ll be driving.”

“They’re in my purse, idiot.”

“My bad. Nice ass though.” He winked then rummaged through my purse, located the keys, and unlocked the doors. “Ladies first.”