Chapter Thirteen
Wes
When I wake up from what I can only assume was an assault, my first thought is that my hip and jaw are sore. But at least I got to take a nap.
Until I get a better feel for my surroundings. I’m sandwiched in between two bodies. My hands are zip-tied in front of me. Something smells like foot funk.
“You were only supposed to get the one,” someone says. The voice is gruff and deep. Gravelly.
“Well, we didn’t have much choice, did we? Bet we’ll get a little something for the extra ones, yeah?” Am I imagining things, or does the other guy sound British?
A careful glance to either side tells me the bodies I’m sandwiched between are Adam and Troy, which is when the memory of what happened in the parking lot returns.
Troy’s jaw looks puffy. There’s blood trickling from Adam’s temple. All three of us are lying in this musty van like so many rolled-up area rugs, and at least two of us are injured. Looking at them both makes my stomach roil.
Thank God they both seem like they’re breathing.
“They were too close to him. You know how it goes. You got witnesses; you either have to bring them or end them. Couldn’t end them in a parking lot. It’s broad daylight.”
Until this moment I was overly warm in the back of the van, pressed in between two people. After that comment, I’m freezing cold.
Maybe he didn’t mean what I’m thinking. My mother and Gina both used to call me overdramatic.
There’s this need in me to keep my eyes on Adam and Troy. Aside from the blood and bruising, they might as well be asleep. My feelings about them may be complicated and confusing, but I sure as hell don’t want them to die.
Except I have no idea what to do. Why were we taken? Where are we going, and what are they going to do to us once we get there?
It’s too tight in here to move much. Seeing the faces of the drivers up front is a no-go.
Adam’s fingers twitch and flex, indicating he’s either about to wake up or having a really intense dream. Troy seems to be breathing more heavily, but I can’t tell for sure. So, I start nudging at him as best as I can with my bound hands.
Not that I have the first clue what I’m doing. It just seems as if we’re all better off if we’re awake.
“If you’re going to try to get to know my cock better, less poking and more stroking, Kitten.”
My breath rushes out. Thank fuck.
For once, I don’t care what he calls me. He can call me anything he wants. “Are you okay?”
Again, I try to glance up. Did anyone in front hear us? Right now they seem to be fighting over the radio.
“Feels like someone took a hammer to my face,” Troy mumbles. “How’s Adam?”
“Not awake yet. Bleeding.”
“Fuck.” His eyes fly open. “He’s got diabetes. Prone to infections. He needs?—”
“I know,” I whisper too harshly. Troy’s panic is rising over our need to keep quiet. “Not much we can do about it right now.”
“Any idea where the hell they’re taking us?” Troy’s wrists are bound like mine, but he manages to roll more toward me, so our faces are almost touching.
“You joked about kidnapping me, but this is a bit much.” God, why am I trying to make jokes? I guess I don’t know what else to do.
He rolls his eyes. “Kitten, we would have taken you someplace with a much better view.”
In spite of the situation, I almost manage to laugh a little. “I’d take a do-over of mini golf over this.”
The three of us can’t be anything but a distraction, even though I can admit I’m curious. I’m discovering a world I never even thought I wanted to visit. If I were in their position, I might also find myself entertaining.
But right now, this isn’t about what we are to each other. We need to be a team, because we’re in this together.
Next to me, Adam makes a noise. His hands come up toward his face, trying to wipe at the blood, perhaps. Which is when his eyes open, and he realizes he’s tied up.
“Fuck. Who did you piss off?” He seems to be talking over my head, to Troy.
“Me? This is probably about the rich girl who’s fucking arranged to be married you keep sticking it to. Bet her daddy found out and decided to get you out of the picture.”
Okay, I definitely have questions about this. Let’s hope we’re alive later for me to ask.
“I don’t think they were after one of you,” I say quietly. “They were talking earlier about meaning to get one of us and accidentally getting all three.”
“This is going to come out sounding wrong,” Adam says slowly, “but why would they want you?” He tugs uselessly at the zip tie on his wrists. “What I mean is, Troy and I are more likely to have enemies.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” I don’t know anything right now. “What the hell are we going to do?”
“Easy.” Troy’s voice is low and raspy. “Soon as they open the back of this thing to let us out, I kill them.”
My shock is there and gone in a split second. I don’t know what these guys want with us, but I’m not convinced killing us is off the table. If it’s us or them, I’m choosing us.
“With what?” I glance around. There are some rectangular containers lining the side of the van, gas cans or something, but they’re huge and I don’t know how we’d even pick one up with our hands smashed into prayer position. “None of us have a weapon. Dammit, I don’t even have my phone.”
Its conspicuous weight is missing from my left pocket. The guys who clocked us must have taken it.
“Shit. I do.” Adam glances up. “You guys create a distraction, okay?”
“What—how? What do we do?”
Troy whispers, “I have an idea.” Without warning he shrugs his arms up and loops them around my neck. Then he tosses one of his legs over both of mine. Then he kisses me.
It isn’t a chaste kiss. It’s like the kiss from the closet, only dirtier. More desperate. There are teeth clicking and tongues tangling. And moaning. Loud moaning. More from Troy than from me, which I assume is intentional, but mine is less theatrical and more “Oh holy shit, I had no idea.”
I can’t catch my breath. I’m not sure I want to. For a second, I think I want to keep kissing him more than I want out of this van.
I’m hard. In a van. With my hands tied.
Over the years, Gina and I wound down from newlyweds making an effort, to the more perfunctory intimacy of trying to make a baby, to chaste pecks, to nothing. The only kiss in my life that’s come close was from this same man.
Holy shit .
I’m only realizing it now, but I hadn’t truly felt desired until these two came along. Ever.
Even if I’m only fun for them, they see my desires and don’t laugh at them. They want me. They make me feel things I’ve never felt.
Shit, I really am starting to like them.
After a few years of marriage, I began to feel bad for stud horses. Right now, in the back of a van with my tied hands crushed between my chest and Troy’s, his erection grinding against mine, I don’t think I’ve felt more turned-on. If this is only a performance for him, it’s a damn good one.
Unfortunately, the van stops as we’re catching up with each other.
There’s a muttered “Jesus Christ, what the fuck are they doing?” and then seconds later the back door being thrown open.
Then yelling.
“Get that fucking thing away from him.”
Adam is dragged out, kicking and fighting the whole way. Troy and I are literally tangled together. Before we can get disconnected, there’s a sickening thud. When I can finally turn my head, my heart stops. Adam’s slumped over again, still conscious but looking rough.
“You motherfucker—” The second Troy sees Adam, he’s struggling to his feet.
The one guy, who I’d guess is in charge, raises the gun in his hand. “You wanna end up worse off than your friend here? If not, I suggest you shut your mouth.”
The man is larger than me, with unkempt hair and a beard. To me, the scariest thing about him is that his left hand is missing two fingers. This is someone who’s probably seen some shit and isn’t playing pretend with the weapon he’s pointing.
Troy’s shaking against me. I know what he’s thinking. He said it earlier, and that was before they hurt Adam again. He wants to kill these guys. Something tells me he’d do it in a second if he had the chance.
Fear clogs my throat. Even I know we’ve got no chance against someone holding a gun. At best, he’d knock Troy over the head like he did Adam. At worst…
“You can’t kill anyone if you’re unconscious,” I manage to say into Troy’s ear before they drag him out.
They have the most trouble with me, even though I don’t fight.
“This one’s fucking heavy,” the younger one with the accent complains.
“I’ve been doing a lot of squats,” I say dryly. Nobody appreciates the joke.
Not even me.
Adam’s confiscated phone is crushed under the big guy’s booted heel. Dammit. Did he manage to get word to anyone? We’re all herded through a rusted door. Trying to get some idea of our location, I swivel my head as they drag us inside.
There’s not much to go on. We seem to be in one of those strips of industrial buildings, except every bit of it looks completely abandoned. Grass and weeds push up between cracks in the paved parking lot.
We’re guided through a large room that’s full of some type of equipment. There’s a lumpy mattress on the floor. As soon as they get us inside, a steel bay door is rolled down and closed with a padlock. Which doesn’t bode well for any possible escape plans.
We pass what looks like photography stuff—a tripod and what I think is a boom mic.
I’ve seen them used for high-profile wedding videos at the Premiere.
I’m still trying to look around when we’re shoved into what looks like an industrial refrigerator.
A big one. It’s the door that gives it away.
The solid metal looks a lot like the one in the Premiere’s kitchen.
Thank God this one isn’t cold inside, but it smells awful. Sickening, in a way that reminds me of a busted freezer at one of my first jobs. Blood from a pack of steaks had gone everywhere. Jesus, is it blood I’m smelling?
Please tell me it’s not from people.
The far wall has a couple more huddled bodies, who are also zip-tied at the wrists. All of them have a mix of exhaustion and fear on their faces.
As I’m shoved from behind, I realize one of them is familiar. Oh hell.
A door slams. I squint into the darkness.
“Nadia? Is that you?”
“Mr. Monroe?”
“You know her?” Troy whispers next to me.
“Nadia. From work. One of the employees I talked to Liam about. One of the ones I thought might be missing.”
I was worried something had happened to her, but this? “Nadia, how did you end up here?”
For that matter, where is here, and what do we do now?