CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I ran my tongue across my teeth, swallowing whatever blood came away. My face was cold and wet, tiny, wavy strands of blond slicked down against my forehead. My chest was tight, but it felt different from the violent pull of a panic attack—there was something holding me up.
The kidnapper must have tied me to something while I was still out. When I’d regained consciousness, the kidnapper wasn’t with me anymore. I wasn’t even in a car. Wherever I was, they obviously didn’t want me to know how to get home—even if they planned on me getting out at all.
Both my feet were planted firmly on the ground, something soft, probably to muffle sound, between my shoes and the floor. It had to be a carpet—it was so cold out, I’d know if they’d brought me somewhere that wasn’t indoors.
The kidnapper was smart. They’d known to force me into a panic attack so they wouldn’t have to knock me out. They’d known how to induce a panic attack, even, so they had to know me personally.
It wasn’t something I broadcast…
…except to everyone I’d ever tried to date.
Under the fabric that still covered my face, my head lolled forward, my lips a messy combination of pout and grimace. I wasn’t as quiet about things as I’d thought. I’d always just assumed people found me as boring as I’d found them and that’s why things never worked out.
Maybe that’s what had attracted me to Derrek to begin with—he saw something in me and still wanted to see more.
And I’d make sure he would.
I’d make sure he knew I was in love with him.
I blinked stupidly, my head still foggy, and moved my body as much as I could. My arms were still bound behind me, but something hard jabbed into my back. I was probably in a chair—and not a very comfortable one. My ankles were bound, but my legs weren’t together, and I guessed that my ankles were tied to the chair’s front legs.
I wriggled where I sat, finding a tight band locked across my chest keeping me upright. I couldn’t tell if it was tape or some heavy rope, but I was definitely secured much more carefully than in the car.
My throat threatened to close entirely at the thought of having been in a car for the first time since the accident. At least I knew the kidnappers were cruel and not just in it for some thrill. They wanted something, and they were willing to torture me to get it.
But why me?
I owned an independent bookstore. It wasn’t like any of the books were rare. The store was doing well enough, but not so well that someone would go so far to rob me.
“Heh,” said a voice from somewhere in front of me and to the right.
The kidnapper’s voice.
Or at least the same one who’d taken me for a joyride. He admitted to working with someone he’d called boss.
She hopes you enjoy the ride.
I racked my brain while whoever was in the room with me took heavy steps around the place, the precise thuds of the kidnapper’s steps unfamiliar. His boss wasn’t with us? The clicks and taps I’d heard on the phone before passing out must have been her footsteps.
I didn’t think there were any women who’d hated me that much. I could almost understand a jilted ex coming after me, but even the relationships that ended badly didn’t end so badly that they’d want to kidnap and torture me.
The harder I thought about it, my brow twisting with the effort of making sense of everything, beads of sweat and tears trickling down to drip off the tip of my nose, the more a single name kept fighting its way forward.
My breath turned to stone in my lungs when the sharp, muffled slam of a deadbolt echoed through the room, quickly accompanied by the same rhythmic clicking I’d heard on the phone. The door whooshed as it shut heavily behind my second kidnapper, who crossed the room with short, deliberate steps.
The clicking of her shoes grew silent as I felt her pass in front of me, the darkness of the bag over my head growing a shade darker for just a second as she stalked across the rug. A few more clicks filled the space before the soft rustle of fabric on fabric.
“W-what do you want from me,” I wavered.
Nothing.
I could feel one of the kidnappers, probably the man who’d knocked me out at the bookstore, pace around me, the hair on the back of my neck prickling every time he circled behind my chair.
Thrashing on the spot was useless. I stayed as still as I could and took shallow breaths, trying to hear anything I could in the darkness. I didn’t know the kidnappers, didn’t know if they were armed and waiting, didn’t know where they’d taken me.
I couldn’t get out alone, and I didn’t think anyone was coming.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME,” I bellowed, betrayed by the cracks in my voice.
A heavy hand slammed into my cheek, and my head felt like it was splitting open all over again. Specks of light peppered the darkness that surrounded me, and before I could shake the ringing from my ears, there was a sharp pull, and the bag over my head was ripped upwards and tossed to the ground.
Despite the dim light, I blinked against the sudden brightness as shapes and figures filled the space around me, my eyes focusing on the woman sitting neatly in a large, dark red love seat that sat against a pale gray wall.
Diana Alvarez.
In her signature pencil skirt and black blazer draped expertly over her shoulders, one arm crossed firmly over an indigo blouse, she sat comfortably across from me, eyes glued to the phone in her hand. Her dark hair was pulled into an impossibly tight bun, and she didn’t look up when she spoke.
“It’s rude to shout,” she spat sharply.
“Bitch,” I said, my eyes darting from Diana to take in everything around her.
It was a larger room than I’d guessed.
Four pale gray walls were decorated to varying degrees with awards, trophies, ribbons, and the occasional photograph. Some of the accolades lined shelves that cascaded down the walls in narcissistic waves, and others were neatly framed and hung between those same shelves.
The space between my chair, a high-backed dining chair made from a rich, dark wood, and Diana’s love seat was taken up by a low coffee table—a wide panel of rectangular glass held up on a shiny silver base that stretched from a thick slab into thin spindles that gripped the glass in the corners.
Behind her, there was a large marble island lined on one side by three other chairs identical to the one I sat bound in, and beyond that, a kitchen of stainless steel and marble on dark wood.
I craned my neck to look behind me, and a heavy hand gripped my hair and whipped my head back toward Diana. In the corners of my eyes, I could just make out a single large, black-booted foot to my right, resting like a weight on the thick white fur rug beneath us both.
I hissed as the hand tangled in my hair gripped tighter, and Diana sighed in her seat, tucking her phone into a pocket as she faced me directly, her deep red lips practically laced with venom.
“Curiosity will only get you killed, Aiden,” she said, my name on her tongue sending sick waves through my body. “We don’t need to rush things. We can be civil, yes? We can talk about things? Perhaps come to an agreement?”
She uncrossed her legs as she spoke, crossing them again in the other direction, her blood-tipped fingers clasped together as she brought her hands to rest over her raised knee.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I replied.
“I’m talking about Derrek.”
My heart turned to ice in my chest.
She wouldn’t.
She couldn’t.
“What about Derrek?” I said, trying my best to wiggle up to my full height. “You can’t hurt him. If you do anything to him, I’ll—”
“You’ll what, shake in your restraints at me?”
She laughed, and it sounded hollow.
“Of course I can’t hurt him. He’s too good at what he does. I need him,” she said, gesturing around the room to the accolades that lined the walls.
My lips glued themselves together as I took another look around the room. Most of the awards were too far away for me to read, but all the ones closest to me had Derrek’s name on them. Ribbons, trophies, sashes, signed photos, even a few cards, all of them made out to Derrek.
My eyes threatened to spill over again.
I’d just found Derrek.
Even when I thought I’d pushed him away, afraid of becoming someone new, someone strange, he’d pulled me even closer into the eye of his storm, and I didn’t want to leave. I saw his cocky grin, felt the prickle of his skin on mine when we kissed for the first time, the second, the third, the fourth, and I knew I couldn’t live without more.
But having him think I might be in love with him wasn’t enough.
Even if he felt it, he didn’t know, and if Diana did anything to hurt him…
“You’re a psycho,” I said, voice broken by the shudder that rippled through my body. “What is this, some psycho museum? Are you in love with him?”
The hand in my hair gripped tighter again, and I grit my teeth in response, my jaw clenching tight. Diana laughed across the table, standing to pace around the rug. Her heels, black and glinting in the low light, clicked as she walked into the kitchen and popped the cork from a bottle of wine on the counter.
She turned, producing a small glass from one of the cupboards, and poured a modest amount, swirling it in the glass as she made her way back toward me.
“Love doesn’t make you money,” she said curtly, standing just beyond the edge of the white fur rug. “I’ve become accustomed to a certain lifestyle, Aiden. You see, I have an eye for talent, and that eye has made me a lot of money.”
She took a silent step onto the rug, pausing to sip from her wine glass.
“You’re getting in the way of that.”
“I haven’t done anything to you,” I said quietly. “I don’t even really know you.”
“But you have done something, Aiden. You’ve been taking my top earner out of the game little by little, and I just can’t afford to lose him. I’ve spent enough already to ensure I never lose him. This will be the last time,” she said.
Eyes downcast, Diana gave me a brisk once-over before gesturing with her wine glass, and the man behind me released his grip on my hair. She stalked carefully across the rug and took her seat, crossing her legs at the ankles.
“Five hundred thousand,” she said flatly.
“E—excuse me?” I said.
“Five hundred thousand. You can disappear off into some tropical paradise and have your pick of men and we never hear from you again. You’re only after Derrek for the money anyway, right? I’ll just give you some to speed things along. He’ll make me more. He always does,” she finished.
“No.”
Diana paused as she lifted her glass to her lips, wine sloshing gently back and forth until she tipped it and took a sip, setting it down gently on a small wooden table next to her seat.
“Five hundred thousand, and I’ll buy out your quaint little bookshop. I’m sure it’ll be more than you’d see in your lifetime otherwise. Fair?” she said.
“No,” I said again, and she pressed two red-tipped fingers to her temple.
“This is n—”
“Shut up,” I snapped. “Take your money and shove it up your own ass, Diana. You won’t win this. I’m not going anywhere and you can’t get rid of me. I don’t give a fuck about your money or Derrek’s. I…I love him. I’m in love with him. I’m in love with him, and I know he loves me, too, and I’m going to find my way back to him, you crazy bitch.”
The tension left my chest as I spoke in one long breath, deflating by the end of my speech. It was hasty, and I could hear the fear peppering my words, but it felt good to say out loud.
I wasn’t going to let her win.
Her face twisted into a feral snarl as she kicked off her heels and launched from her seat, circling the table in seconds as she picked up her wine glass and threw it to the side.
It shattered against a framed photo of Derrek triumphantly raising a grand silver trophy up over his head in one hand, his other flashing a peace sign, the happiness in his face familiar. Dark red pools dripped down the wall where her glass shattered, and I flinched even before she cupped my chin with one hand, digging her nails into my cheeks.
“You think you’re the first man he’s ever felt something for?” she whispered venomously, her eyes flashing as mine narrowed.
I knew she had to be right. Derrek had showed me his memory box himself, and I’d read too many books about chosen ones and destined loves to think I was extraordinary.
But I knew there was something powerful between Derrek and me, extraordinary or not.
Maybe sometimes love was just love, and that’s all it had to be.
“Of course not,” I said.
“Then you should know,” she said, tightening her grip on my face, pushing my lips into an ugly pucker, “you aren’t the first one I’ve had to pay off to keep him focused on what matters.”
I screamed as she dug her nails into my face and scratched. Blood and tears mixed on my cheeks, and Diana pulled away, her lips a crooked line pulled tight across her red-stained teeth. My face burned where her nails left shallow cuts.
The man behind me circled my chair, kicking at the back legs to drop me quickly onto the rug, and I felt a heavy blow against my shoulder even through the thick rug breaking my fall.
He joined Diana in the kitchen, crossing an arm in front of him to pull something small from beneath his jacket, placing it on the counter in front of them. They kept their backs to me, the silence broken by the occasional clink of something small and heavy against the marble counter.
“You have other clients,” I struggled to shout, their backs still turned to me. “You don’t need Derrek. You don’t—you don’t need to do this.”
A sharp, mechanical click echoed through the room, and my eyes went wide, the blood trickling from the cuts on my face hot against the growing chill that spread across my skin. Diana turned, a sleek, silver pistol raised in front of her, silencer and all, pointed directly at me.
She raised it toward the wall and fired twice before turning it back toward me.
“DO YOU SEE THEIR PHOTOS IN THIS ROOM?” she shrieked. “They don’t hold a candle to the potential in Derrek Luna, and I’m going to milk that man for all he’s worth,” she continued, inching forward, her arms steady. The man beside her turned too, and I recognized Brent, the surly bodyguard I’d met my first time at the track.
Diana didn’t take her eyes off me as she watched my eyes dart from her to Brent and back again. He and Diana had shared whispers after she and Derrek had their blowout in the welcome center, and from the way he brushed his heavy hand down the length of her arm, leaning in close behind her to steady her hand, I was sure they’d shared a lot more.
He was her muscle. My kidnapping probably wasn’t his first one, either.
“So, you love him, do you?” Diana hissed at me, still making her slow approach. “Good, good. Men in pain are easy to manipulate. But you knew that, Aiden. You’ve been stealing him away from me for days now, emptying my pockets, and now he’s not coming. Nobody is coming. Nobody knows you’re here,” she said, failing to suppress her manic laughter.
Just as quickly, her voice became low, her words cold and sharp.
“They’ll find you in the back seat of a car in some other city. No phone, no ID, just another victim of some terrible crime.”
I could feel the bile fighting its way up into my mouth, my chest a tangled maze of knots that made my breath come in short, gasping bursts. Another panic attack was coming, and I couldn’t stop it.
I’d never been able to stop them.
Even as I clenched my eyes shut, conjuring images of my mother’s face in my mind, images of Derrek’s eyes bright with the look he only shared with me, I could feel my heart beat in my skull, stronger and faster and louder than anything in the room.
A crash and a gunshot burst through the room, and I clamped my eyes shut tighter, the rush of blood pumping through my head drowned out by shouts and heavy footfalls before a familiar voice pierced through the chaos.
My eyes snapped open to find Derrek kneeling over me, furiously working to undo my restraints.
“Aiden? Aiden! I’m here. I found you. It’s going to be okay.”