Chapter 19 #2
Bringing my knees to my chest, I used what little strength I had to roll off my hip.
Then I hoisted myself to a seated position on the floor.
The room began spinning and the effort stabbed needles through my eyes.
I collapsed against the cinderblock wall behind me, sucking in a few deep breaths until the pain was manageable.
“Who are you?” the woman beside me asked. “Why do they want you?”
“Scarlett Marks,” I answered, turning my head to take her in.
Her face was pale and the braid she’d worn earlier had fallen out. A mass of auburn hair fell over her shoulders and down her green tee. Like me, she was in jeans but hers had a fresh tear at the knee. There was a red mark on her cheek and her caramel eyes were flooded with tears.
Even terrified, she was beautiful. Too beautiful for this place.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Cassandra Cline.” She kept her voice low, her gaze alternating between me and the closed door.
We were in one of the basement rooms—it could be the one where Ken Raymond had been killed. The floor pitched to a drain in the center. There were no windows, only a flickering lightbulb hanging from a black wire.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because trouble seems to follow me everywhere these days.” And now I’d dragged this innocent young woman into the mix.
“What else happened?” I whispered. “At home.”
“Chief Rosen lives alone and I wasn’t sure what you were doing. My parents are part of the neighborhood watch. I thought maybe you’d broken into his house or something and were moving on to the neighbor’s.”
I huffed a laugh. With my backpack and as quickly as I’d been walking, I probably had looked like a criminal.
“I was still beside my car when that man opened the door. One second, you were standing there, then he took out a gun and hit you over the head. It happened so fast. I tried to get out my phone and call the police, but he saw me. I tried to run but . . . there were three of them.”
Had the Warriors known I was at Luke’s? Or had they gone after the FBI agent?
“Did you see another woman?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It was just us. One of the men, the one who caught me, hit me across the cheek. Things are fuzzy after that. There was a van. They threw us in and tied us up. You were unconscious the whole time.”
“Damn.” Then I most likely had a concussion. I breathed and closed my eyes. “Did anyone else see us?”
“I don’t think so.”
It was a Saturday. People mowed the lawns on Saturdays. Kids played in their yards. Someone might have seen two women being thrown into a van, but even if they had, clearly the police hadn’t been able to stop the Warriors from getting us to Ashton.
We were three hours away from Clifton Forge and when Luke got home, he’d see my note and think I’d gone to the FBI. Eventually they’d find the agent in the house next door, but how much time did we have before the Warriors killed us next?
“Where are we?” Cassandra asked. “Why is this happening?”
“Have you ever heard of the Arrowhead Warriors?”
She gulped and nodded, her eyes going back to the door. “One of my roommates is from Ashton. She’s told me stories.”
More like nightmares—except they were true.
“I shouldn’t have gone to The Betsy,” she whispered.
“Huh?” God, my head hurt. I was struggling to keep up with Cassandra, much less what was happening in my own mind. “What about The Betsy?”
“Two weeks ago, I came home with a friend. My parents go camping a lot in the summer and let me stay at their place. I go to grad school in Missoula and have a few summer classes. My roommates like to party so I come home to study whenever I have a break. But a couple weeks ago, my friend wanted to come with me and see where I grew up. We went out to The Betsy and there were these guys . . .” She shook her head.
“I didn’t get any work done, so I came back this weekend to catch up. ”
“Huh?” I was stuck on repeat.
“I have a paper due in two weeks. Except the weekend I brought my friend home, we went out and I only wrote two pages. So I came home this weekend to escape my roommates and finish it.”
And now she was in the basement of a motorcycle gang’s clubhouse.
While a party raged above.
It had to be getting closer to night. The music drifting through the ceiling was a tell-tale sign that one of the Warriors’ Saturday-night ruckuses was underway.
The two of us sat quietly, the music a third person in the room. Cassandra sat rigid, her eyes on the door.
I closed mine and stretched for my jeans pocket. My phone was gone. Fuck. Maybe it had fallen out during the abduction but I suspected it belonged to the Warriors now.
This is bad. God, this was bad. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get out of here myself, let alone sneak Cassandra out too.
My hands were strapped together tight and Cassandra was sitting in a similar position. Our ankles weren’t bound, but even if we managed to open the door, there was no way we were getting out of this compound unnoticed. This place was probably crawling with people.
The ache in my head spiked and I focused on my breathing, taking in long breaths that smelled of concrete and bleach and death.
Had Luke made it home? Was he worried?
Damn it, I should have stayed put. I should have stayed hidden. Unless the FBI had been the Warriors’ first stop and Luke’s had been the next. Maybe I’d just saved them a trip next door.
“Scarlett.” Cassandra’s shoulder nudged mine.
I snapped up, not realizing I’d almost drifted to sleep. “Yeah?”
“You probably have a concussion.”
“Probably.” The crown of my head felt strange, sticky. It was probably dried blood.
“It would be best if you stayed awake.”
“Okay.” I forced my eyes open, the room spinning.
“Talk to me. Tell me about anything.”
“Like what?”
“Um . . . what’s your favorite place to visit?”
“Smith River.” If I could just take a small nap, I’d be there again in my dreams. Instead of music, I’d hear the rushing river. Instead of feeling cold and scared, I’d be warm under the sun. And Luke would be there.
Maybe we’d talk about our dreams again. And this time, I’d have my own answer.
What do I want in life?
Luke.
A life with Luke.
“Open your eyes.”
I obeyed, concentrating on a spot on the wall across from us. “Okay.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“I’m twenty-four.” She had delicate, youthful features. Cassandra was thin but taller than me by quite a few inches, given where my shoulder reached hers. With the lack of makeup and her flawless skin, she could pass for a high schooler.
“You don’t look twenty-four.”
“I get that a lot,” she muttered. “What month is your birthday?”
“August.”
“Mine’s in May.” She shifted, sitting up straighter and wiggling her legs. Hers were probably numb like mine from the cold floor. “How do you know Chief Rosen?”
“I love him.” I sagged to one side, my eyelids heavy, but I managed to keep them open.
Enough so when the door flew open and four men strode inside, I didn’t miss the look on Tucker Talbot’s face as he took me in.
One of the men was the one who’d hit me. I couldn’t remember his name from when I’d stayed here. The other two were Tucker’s lieutenants. Where he went, so did they. Both were younger than Tucker and hadn’t spared me much of a glance when I’d been living here with Jeremiah.
Now, I was the center of attention.
White light streamed into the room from the hallway and made me wince. Maybe it wasn’t night after all. I vaguely recalled a row of thin windows along the hallway from my one and only time in this basement before. The summer days were long, but it was still bright outside.
We hadn’t been here as long as I’d thought.
Tucker studied me, the cold expression on his face unreadable, as he crossed the room and crouched in front of me. His eyes flicked to my hair, lingering on the place where I’d been clubbed. “Goldilocks.”
I wanted to spit in his face.
So I did.
His jaw clenched as he reached into his rear pocket and pulled out a bandana. He wiped his face dry, then tossed it in my face. It smelled of gasoline and grease as it hit my nose, then dropped to my lap.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stared at me with those haunting, dark eyes.
And I stared right back.
One of the other men came over, a lanky man with dirty-blond hair, and kicked at Cassandra’s knee. “Who’s this?”
“She saw us,” the man who’d clubbed me said.
“So you took her?” the blond man asked. “Stupid motherfucker. Have you not noticed the federal agents surrounding this place? I knew I should have gone myself.”
Tucker held up a hand, silencing the conversation. His eyes never wandered from mine as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a phone. My phone.
“Your boyfriend tried to blackmail me.” Tucker set the device on the floor. “I didn’t like it much.”
I stole one of Luke’s moves and arched an eyebrow.
A slow grin spread across Tucker’s face. Chilling. Deadly.
I wasn’t leaving this room alive.
My heart dropped. “I have a backup of that video.”
Tucker shrugged. “I’ve spent enough time dodging the law to know what sticks and what doesn’t. A judge might rule it admissible. Or maybe he won’t. Wherever you’ve saved the backup, we’ll find it.”
This evil man was going to kill me and take his chances.
“See you soon, Goldilocks.” Tucker cast his gaze to the ceiling. “When things quiet down, then we’ll have some fun.”
The sick son of a bitch was going to enjoy killing me. He’d probably torture me relentlessly until I told him exactly where I had the video saved. Maybe he’d cut off my fingers, one by one. Or maybe he’d hurt Cass, knowing that at the first drop of her blood, I’d tell him everything.
Without another word, Tucker stood. He raised his knee and with one fast stomp, brought his boot heel to my phone, shattering the glass. It was garbage now. Then he walked to the man who’d taken me, and without breaking his stride, Tucker plowed a fist into the man’s face before leaving the room.
Blood dripped from the man’s nose, but he didn’t make a sound. He didn’t protest. He simply followed Tucker and the others out of the room, closing the door behind him as blood streamed from his face.
The lock from outside the door clicked. The light disappeared.
Cassandra and I were alone. Trapped.
She shuddered, bringing her knees to her chest. Her shoulders trembled but she didn’t cry.
Tears wouldn’t save our lives.
And as I succumbed to the black, I knew nothing would.