Stir (The Sizzle TV Series Book 5)

Chapter 31 – Natalie

Agray SUV. Of course.

The man in the driver’s seat mutters under his breath, a jumble of swearing and some nonsense I don’t understand, getting more and more tense with every red light.

“Shit.” He fumbles in the console, finds what he’s after, and throws it back at me. The cloth lands in my lap, a blue bandana. It still has tags on it. “Put that on.”

“On?”

“Cover your eyes. Now.”

A blindfold. I hadn’t been paying close attention to the drive, because we were in the middle of the city and he didn’t head straight for a highway, but now all I see is big industrial buildings and construction equipment.

“Now, bitch.” His hand goes to his pocket, the one he used to show me his pistol.

I tie the blue cloth over my eyes, feeling sick.

Some interminable amount of time later, we stop. The engine cuts off. I hear those plastic bags I’d seen in the front seat rustling, and then I’m alone in the car. I have just enough time to break into a cold sweat, thinking he’s going to leave me locked in here when the door opens, and I’m yanked out of my seat by my arm. Stumbling over the rough ground—gravel, I think—in my heels.

Round-toe kitten heels. Nic loves these shoes.

A wave of homesickness and fear hits me hard. Nic and Finn have to have noticed my absence by now.

The man puts his sweaty hand under my arm, forcing me forward, and we’re walking. I’m manhandled through a door which clangs loudly, echoing in a huge space.

We could be in one of those warehouses we passed. Maybe. I try to make a mental note of anything that stands out, anything I can think of, anything to keep the panic at bay. My heart is pounding out of my chest.

“What do you want from me?”

“Shut your mouth,” mutters the man. A moment later, we’re through another door, this one smaller—no metal clanging this time, just the firm closure. A smaller space. A room or office, maybe. I’m shoved down into a chair and told to stay. Not hard to comply when my whole body is shaking so hard.

Rustling plastic bags again. He sounds close. I can hear a heavy whomping, like enormous fans turning somewhere in the building, but far away. Otherwise, there’s nothing. Nobody.

Oh, God.

My breath hitches, the panic rising faster than I can tamp it down.

We can’t have gone far, surely. The city just isn’t that big. We were only in the car a little while. I should have kept an eye on the clock. I should have paid better attention to which direction we were going. But nobody saw me with him, and I left the building voluntarily and?—

A hand grabs my ankle, and I kick hard, crying out. My foot connects, and I hear the man grunt.

“Fucking bitch.” I brace for a hit, but he goes for my ankle again, squeezing hard enough to hurt. “Sit fucking still.”

He’s tying me to the chair.

I start to struggle, kicking and shoving at anything I can get my hands on, scratching and pushing for all I’m worth. Before I can get my hands up enough to remove the blindfold, he’s there, pulling my hands behind me, some sticky tape going around and around my wrists. My fingertips are wet. I must have drawn blood.

My adrenaline spikes, and I laugh.

“Probably should have started with the hands, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Breathing through the weird manic urge to keep laughing until I start screaming, I realize the blindfold has gotten dislodged in the scuffle. I can just see him over the edge of the fabric, kneeling down as he wraps the tape around my ankles, binding them together. At least he didn’t actually tie me to the chair.

He’s flushed, sweating, hair sticking to his forehead, though the air is stale and cold in the room. Nervous. And desperate, so much so I can practically smell it. His skin is pasty, his dark eyes red-rimmed, lined with stress and heavy bags beneath.

He looks just like their father.

“You’re Nic’s brother.”

He tears the tape and stands up. Doesn’t bother to respond, doesn’t even look at me. I sit very still. The bandana has come loose enough that I might be able to shake it off. It’s not like having my hands free, but it’s a start.

The room appears to be a deserted office, dusty and long out of use. I memorize everything I can because I’m going to get out of here and repeat every detail of this to the cops.

I cling to that because maybe I can’t stop the panic, but it isn’t useful, and it really cannot be clearer that nobody would be able to hear me scream in this place even if I tried. I need to keep my mouth shut, not draw his attention any more than I have to. Maybe there’s something on the floor I can use to cut the tape. He’ll leave me here at some point, right? That’s how it works in the movies. I just have to stay calm, don’t draw any attention.

“What are you going to do to me?”

Natalie, shut your mouth, you ever-loving fool.So much for quiet. So much for not drawing attention.

He scoffs.

“Is it just the money? We can get you money. You don’t have to do this.”

That gets his attention. Damn it.

He looks right at me, notices the blindfold. Comes around the back of my chair, rips the bandana off my head. Fastens it back on, too tight to slip this time. The panic bubbles up again, bigger than before.

“You’ve been following us. Or was it me?”

He makes a disgusted sound.

“Like you three are ever apart. Fucking disgusting,” he says.

I can’t tell what he’s doing. He’s not moving around the room anymore.

“Stay there,” he says. Then he laughs, a sound that sends chills down my spine. I’ve never heard a person laugh like that. I hear the door click shut behind him, and I start to shake.

Finn is going to kick my butt for this. I should never have left the building. Stupid, stupid. I didn’t take him seriously when he said it was dangerous. I assumed because the note was Nic’s, because it was Nic’s brother, that it had nothing to do with me.

Made myself an easy target. Of course. It’s head-smackingly obvious in hindsight.

Just like Jeff. I was an easy target for him, too. I put up no resistance when he came on to me at work back then. No red flags at all because any attention from a man would have been flattering, right, Natalie? Because you weren’t used to getting any attention at all. I’m such an idiot.

It’s my fault. I should have listened to Finn and to Nic. Should have taken this more seriously. My fault. I should have listened when the men I love tried to warn me, when they tried to protect me.

I love them. God, I love them so much. I should have told them. I should have said so every minute, and to hell with the risk. Who cares if I got my heart broken? At least they’d know. At least I’d have tried.

Who knows if I’ll ever get the chance again?

God.Alone in the dark behind the blindfold, I start to cry. And then I start to pray.