After work, I headed to Eastside Boxing to get in some dance time. I hoped to avoid Jay. I had no desire to see him, not after what Lacey had said. Falling for him? The very idea was laughable. Jay was not my type at all. I didn’t like him, and he didn’t like me. But I couldn’t face him right then. Not with the thought still in my head, not when the memory of our kiss kept invading my thoughts, and those thoughts taking it further and further, until he was shirtless and my hands were discovering every hard and soft spot of his body and…

No, just no.

Determined not to think about Jay Thornton’s abs, I leaned against the bus stop post and waited. A black sports car screeched up beside me, almost hitting the sidewalk, and I jumped back. A man got out. It was Alfonso—the big Mexican who’d treated my bullet graze and my sprained ankle.

“Simon wants to see you,” he said, jerking his head toward the car door.

Fear tightened my throat. I backed away. “No, thanks.”

He grabbed me and pulled me toward the car. “Sorry. It’s not a request.”

“Let me go!” I shrieked. A couple down the street paused. It was dark out, but between the streetlights and my scream, they would know I was in trouble. Wouldn’t they?

I opened my mouth to scream again and something pressed into my side.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Do not make me.”

I swallowed but didn’t budge. He touched the point into my side and I gasped. A knife, just barely piercing my skin. I flinched, but he had me in such a tight grip that I couldn’t go anywhere.

“Cut me and I will scream,” I said, but it didn’t sound fierce or threatening.

He walked me to the car, the knife never leaving my side. The group down the street wasn’t even looking our way anymore. I choked out a sob.

Alfonso opened the driver’s side door and pushed me in. The sports car was only a two-seater, but he climbed right in after me, pushing me into the passenger seat. He tied my hands with a plastic zip tie, so tight that I cried out.

He gunned the engine and sped away, leaving the only witnesses to my abduction clueless and far behind. He drove fast, weaving in and out of traffic, not stopping for lights. “You try and jump, it will hurt worse than this.” He motioned to the knife resting on his thigh.

My whole body shuddered. I wanted out of there. If Ting wanted to see me, why hadn’t Jay come? Why send this guy with his knife?

While he drove, I inched my fingers toward my bag. It was mashed against my side, under the seatbelt. Not that it would do any good. My purse was zipped shut, I would never be able to unzip it or get my bound hands inside unnoticed, let alone grab my phone and dial. I tried anyway.

“I’m Alfonso,” the big Mexican said. “We met. You remember?”

Was he crazy? Of course I remembered, but that didn’t mean I’d be all buddy-buddy with a guy who had kidnapped me at knife point.

When I didn’t answer he looked over. “Stop it.” The knife was pressed flat against my knuckles in an instant. Alfonso still had one hand on the steering wheel, his driving hadn’t slowed. “No tricks.”

If I could’ve grabbed the knife, I would have—Alfonso wasn’t even looking at it, his eyes were on the road. But I was shaking. My breaths were loud. I was on the brink of tears. Ting had come to get me before, and it had turned out okay, but Jay had been there. I needed Jay.

I swallowed and choked on my own breath. He was pressing the flat of the knife into my skin, as if to remind me it was still there.

“Please.” I started to cry.

Alfonso groaned. “No crying. I can’t stand crying.” He turned on the radio to an oldies station. He began to sing along to a Beach Boys song, loudly and badly, and I was so surprised, I stopped crying. Had he done that to shut me up, or was he trying to make me feel better? He didn’t even look at me, he just kept driving and singing.

When the car left the city limits, my panic came back full force. Maybe he wasn’t taking me to Ting at all. Maybe he was going to kill me out in the desert and dump my body. Would Officer Ting order him to do that? Maybe not. But Simon Ting totally would.

We pulled up to a gated mansion. Alfonso keyed in a code and the gate swung open. As soon as we stopped, I would try to run, but I had a sinking feeling that I wouldn’t get very far. Even if I did, where could I go?

Alfonso stopped. He lifted the knife from my skin but pointed at me. “Stay put.” While he turned off the car, I undid my seatbelt. Alfonso grabbed the keys and got out.

I fumbled with the door handle, yanking it open. The seatbelt caught on my purse. I almost fell out of the car. I wriggled free and lurched forward, running.

He grabbed me around the waist from behind. I struggled, but he’d gotten me in a bear hug.

“You cause too many problems,” he said, squeezing tight. His grip loosened, but only for a moment. Then the knife was out and resting against my neck. “Easy. You cooperate, everything will be okay. Understand?”

I swallowed, the cold steel moving with me. Alfonso walked me up the steps to the front door. My mind whirled while I tried to stay grounded in reality. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I feared. Maybe Ting just wanted to talk, like last time, and then he would let me go. Maybe Jay would be there and he’d—

Who was I kidding? Even if Jay was there, he’d pick Ting over me—his boss, the man who was a father to him. He’d been lying for me, sure, but he wouldn’t cross that line.

Alfonso herded me through the front door, still holding me awkwardly from behind. We walked through a big front entrance, past a kitchen, and into a living room. It was an open space with glass walls looking out into the vast backyard. A pool glistened out there, an inviting escape from the regular Vegas heat. Inside, three couches sat in a U-shape, one of them facing a giant flat screen TV against the wall. Alfonso pushed me forward. I didn’t want to sit, but he put both hands on my shoulders and shoved me down. He sat on the couch next to me.

My eyes darted around the room, catching on a phone resting on a corner desk. On the hallway leading to who knew where, on the door leading to freedom. My body was tense, ready to run.

“I’ll tie your feet too if I have to,” Alfonso said, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

I waited. Beside me, Alfonso spun his knife, the blade a blur in his hands. If he was trying to scare me, it was working. The only way I’d get away from him was if he stabbed himself. Or fell asleep.

Minutes ticked by but I never relaxed. I couldn’t. “Can we watch TV or something while we’re waiting?” I asked, hoping something would distract the big man next to me. He shook his head.

When the door slammed, my heart leapt into my throat. Ting was here, and I was screwed.

“Sorry I took so long, I had a helicopter parent at the gym who was worried about…”

It was Jay, not Ting. He stopped talking. I looked at him, my heart filling with irrational hope.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Simon told me to bring her,” Alfonso said. “He’s on his way.”

Jay’s shoulders tensed. “What for?”

“He figured out that Fred guy.” Alfonso nodded at the desk. “Take a look.”

No. If that was true, then I was beyond screwed. Not even Jay would save me now.

Jay glanced at me, a frown pulling at his eyebrows. He went to the desk and opened a laptop.

I couldn’t read his expression. What was he looking at? What had Simon found out about Fraze?

“What is it? Can I see?” I asked.

“Show her,” Alfonso said.

Jay brought the laptop over, setting it on my knee.

The screen was open to a Facebook page. Bronwyn’s. Right in the middle was one of Fraze and Bronwyn amidst a group of people outside in the snow. Fraze was holding a red cup, his hair covered by a beanie, Bronwyn’s was longer, in thin dreads past her shoulders. The status read, “What happens at the annual Williams party, stays at the annual Williams party, right, Fraze?”

Even though the picture was old, Fraze looked almost the same as he did now. A little less chubby, a little more like a man now, but he had the same smile, the same twinkle in his eyes.

“Who’s Fraze?” Jay asked, his voice near my ear. He’d gone to stand behind the couch but he was leaning close so he could see the screen.

“That’s Fred.” Alfonso clicked another tab and another picture popped up. “Surveillance photo. From Pearl of China. Same night Alonso made the loan. Don’t you recognize him?”

The photo was grainy, but it was obviously Frasier, sitting inside a Chinese restaurant. “What does this prove?” I asked. Only that Bronwyn knew him, not who he actually was.

“It led Simon to this.” Alfonso clicked on a third tab. It was Frasier’s freshman yearbook photo. Fraze hadn’t sat for school photos after that. He’d been going against “the man” as he liked to say back then. Doing everything opposite of the way most people did things. His name rested below the photo in big, block letters.

“Frasier Hale,” Jay said behind me.

Alfonso took the laptop, closed it, then leaned back against the couch. He caressed the handle of his knife. “Maggie’s brother.”