Chapter Twenty-Two #2
He has on a washed-out denim shirt that clings to his broad shoulders like water clung to his bare chest whenever he got to go swimming.
The sleeves are folded up to his elbows, displaying his corded forearms that always made sure I stayed safe while we rode.
His thighs are encased in a darker-colored denim that fits him so well I can practically see the thighs that hugged mine for the past week.
I can practically feel them rustling against mine right now.
But that’s not what makes my heart skip a beat, several beats, actually.
It’s that brown-colored Stetson on his head, sitting with the brim tipped low.
Pair that with his rugged boots so big that I’m sure I could fit both my feet in one of them, and he has to be the handsomest cowboy I’ve ever seen.
He’s not classically pretty like the other guy, but he has this roughness about him that I want to rub up against. Scrape along and come out with black-and-blue bruises.
Well, I did, didn’t I? And now he’s brought my best friend here.
“You,” I begin, gathering myself and moving away from Peyton, “brought her here.”
At my words, his eyes snap back up to mine.
And I realize that while I’m seeing him for the first time like he was before I met him, he’s probably meeting me for the first time too.
As Reverie. The girl who always wears loose hoodies that hide all her curves and let her live a safe life.
Although the hoodie I’m wearing is not that loose or large, but I’m guessing he gets the picture.
Because his jaw clenches and something like anger passes through his features.
Well, I’m not his problem anymore. Whatever happened between us back in the woods was probably his way of making do after eight years in prison.
I mean, if he really found me attractive or thought I was pretty, instead of just jerking off over my body, he would’ve at least kissed me, right?
Yes, he said he wouldn’t kiss a Turner, but that didn’t stop him from… doing other things.
And oh my God, what is wrong with me? My best friend’s life is in danger. My life is in danger, and I’m thinking about how my kidnapper didn’t kiss me. I glance at the stranger before going back to him and prodding when he chooses to remain silent. “Is he your guy? Does he… Does he work for you?”
Before he can respond, Peyton barges into the conversation.
“I know who you are. I saw you on TV. You’re Arsenal Grayson.
You’re the one who tried to kill my father that night.
” She doesn’t let him respond. “You kidnapped my best friend? What, is Bo your buddy then?” Again before anyone can respond, she keeps going: “What is this, huh? Some kidnapping scheme? First, you tell your friend Bo to trap my innocent best friend with letters, then you kidnap her? And then your other lackey comes in and kidnaps me?”
Finally, Arsen deigns to respond: “Somethin’ like that.”
“Look,” Peyton goes, arms folded across her chest. “If you guys think my brother is going to give you money in exchange for us, then you’re fucked in the head, all right? Which we all knew anyway because you’re the Graysons but I want you to think this through.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” She raises her chin. “My brother, I hate him, but he calls me like clockwork every Sunday. So if I don’t pick up my phone tomorrow, do you know what he’s going to do?”
“I’m sure you’ll enlighten us.”
“He’s going to think something is wrong. And then he’s going to think Graysons are behind it.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, it doesn’t. So you better let us go before my brother—”
“Think it’s enough,” the stranger interrupts for the first time.
And his voice makes the house shake. Or it should because of how deep and unused it is. I thought Arsen’s voice sounded unused the first time I heard it, but this stranger’s voice is really a bunch of put-together guttural syllables.
“Oh, now you talk,” Peyton snaps. “I kept asking you and asking you, for the past hour since I woke up in your filthy cowboy truck, what the fuck’s going on and who the hell are you and what do you want with me and what the hell am I doing at the Grayson ranch and you didn’t have the decency to say a word.
Not a word. I don’t even know what the fuck’s your name and you think this is enough.
” She scoffs. “Oh, you sweet summer child, you haven’t seen the kind of havoc I can wreak.
By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be cursing the day you ever laid your eyes on me. ”
Silence follows her threat. Broken by a snort coming from the left.
It’s Axton. Which creates a domino effect in the sense that the stranger lets out a long breath, as if he’s praying for patience.
Haven, who’s also here, clears her throat and ducks her head to hide her twitching lips.
Arsen is the only one who doesn’t show any outward reaction except tipping up his chin. “Haven.”
This gets Haven moving and she heads toward us. “Hi, I’m Haven. I can’t believe I’m having to do this a second time, but would you like to freshen up before you start threatening people?”
Peyton frowns. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t even know who you are.”
“Peyton, lets’s go,” I tell her.
“But—”
“Just”—I squeeze her arm—“trust me.”
It takes her a few seconds, but she nods and just as we’re leaving, I hear him say to Haven, “They’ve got thirty minutes.”
With that, he turns around and walks out. Just like that. And as I walk away with Peyton, I realize that in this whole exchange, he never said a word to me.
Not one word.
“So you’re married,” Peyton goes.
I don’t know how long we have until our thirty minutes are up, but I tell Peyton everything.
From the night he grabbed me by the motel to yesterday, which I spent waiting for them to tell me my fate.
I’m not proud of it, but I may have broken down here and there, trying to catch my breath and swallow down my tears.
It’s just that for the entire last week, I thought no one was coming for me. No one even knew I was missing.
But I was wrong.
Peyton did look for me, and she’s here now.
She’s with me, and I know it’s not what I’d planned for, but God, I really wanted someone by my side.
I wanted my best friend to be with me, and I’m just so happy and relieved that she’s here.
And that she’s been holding me tightly through my entire story.
“No, you are. You’re the real Peyton,” I reply back.
My belly clenches in pain, and I don’t have it in me to even pretend that those words didn’t hurt, but I can’t focus on it right now. I’ll deal with my insanity later.
“But there’s no way a document like that would hold up in court,” Peyton says, protesting the same thing I did once upon a time.
I break out of her embrace. “Do you think he cares about what’s going to hold up in court? He stabbed a cop, Peyton. At the courthouse. He has judges and police in his pockets. Whatever it is he wants out of this marriage, he’s going to get it.”
Even as I say it, it seems so far away. That courthouse thing. It feels like it happened in a faraway universe. Along with so many other things. They might as well have happened to someone else, and I have a hard time figuring out why that’s such a bad thing.
“So you know what we need to do, don’t you?” Peyton asks, breaking my thoughts.
“Yes, we need to run.”
She gives me a look. “No.”
“What?”
“We need revenge.”
I draw back and repeat in a high octave, “What?”
“You’ve tried running, remember? And if what you say is true, that everyone is in his pocket, who are you going to run to?”
“Your family,” I reply, my heart racing now.
“Your brother will kick their ass. Didn’t you just say that yourself?
All we need to do is somehow get the message to him that we’re being held here without our consent.
Or”—my eyes go wide as I continue—“he’s going to call you tomorrow, right?
And if you don’t pick up, he is going to get freaked out and sooner or later, he’s going to figure out Graysons are behind it all.
So if we really think about it, we probably don’t even have to run.
We don’t need to do anything but sit here and wait for your brother to come rescue us. ”
“But don’t you see,” Peyton says urgently.
“My family is the same. Do you think my brother is any better than these Graysons? Do you think my father is any better than all these monsters in this house? They’re all criminals, every single one of them.
And why do you think you’re here in the first place?
Because of them. Because of their decades-old feud. ”
“Look,” I sigh. “I know. I know they’re all the same—”
“Yes, they are and I’m not taking a thing from my family. Not a single thing, Riri, including their help that probably will come with strings attached anyway.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. It’s not as if it hadn’t occurred to me.
That Turners are as bad as Graysons. Or that her brother won’t help us without trying to further his own agenda with Peyton.
I know he’s been trying to get her back to Wildfire for ages now.
He wanted her to go to college in Black Rock instead of staying in Bozeman.
He’s also increasingly trying to butt into her dating life, which is why she hates picking up his weekly calls.
But this is bigger than that. The stakes are much higher in this case.
“But Peyton,” I say, trying to convey the seriousness of this situation, “these people are dangerous. He is dangerous. We need to figure out a way to get out of here, okay? We have to. Before it’s too late. Before something bad happens. We need to be smart here. We—”
“And we will be,” Peyton assures me, cutting me off. “We’ll be smart and we’ll wait. Until the time is right and then we strike.”
“What, strike with what?”