Chapter 40
Daisy
We rode for a few hours and aside from the radio, it was pretty quiet. I had no idea a quick trip to get my IDs replaced would end up being so emotionally draining. As I lay my head on his shoulder, I kept looking down at the blood on the knee of his jeans. And every time I closed my eyes, I saw my mom’s frail figure. She wasn’t a great mom by any means, but she was still mine.
She had been young when she had me, disowned by her own parents because of it, and the sperm donor hadn’t stuck around long. I ran off and became a dancer to take care of myself, but I guess in her own way, she had found a way of taking care of herself, too. I didn’t really know what she did. Maybe some of those men were Johns, or her pimps, because, as hard as I tried to think, I couldn’t recall her ever having a job. And we didn’t have much, but I had food and clothes and a small bedroom in that little house.
Nothing about my childhood or teen years brought a sense of happy nostalgia, but it molded me into who I was. Taught me that I couldn’t depend on anyone but me. And even if I had been through hell, I made it out alive.
But as I leaned into the warmth of Falcon’s body, I questioned everything I thought I knew. Despite how hard I tried to fight it, he took care of me. Even when I didn’t want it. And he did things for me, not just because of me. Like driving two days before he has to drive another two days so that I had my ID. Something I didn’t actually require right this second, but I wanted. He understood it would bring me some kind of comfort, so he made it happen as soon as he could.
And even though seeing my mom probably didn’t go as he expected, he wanted to be sure I didn’t have regrets when we left. But instead of asking me, he just took me. He knew I’d likely have said no.
As much as it would kill me to admit it, I liked having someone take charge. He wasn’t taking control of my life; he was making decisions in my best interest. Falcon was doing what he thought was best for me. He wanted to make me happy but also wanted me to have the least amount of worry.
If I was completely honest with myself, I understood him not wanting me to dance anymore, whether it was for safety or just the idea that he wanted me to be all his. Hell, I felt a tinge of jealousy when a female client was in his chair with certain body parts exposed. But he let me watch, and they were always friendly with me. He was nothing but professional with them, and nothing about it ever seemed sensual. I think the only reason I got jealous was because as possessive he was about me, I felt the same about him, and those hands were mine.
Having someone care for me, not just what I could offer, was so different that it was uncomfortable. That’s it. I was so used to being used, it felt wrong to be loved. Well, I wasn’t certain that was what he felt, but it was probably the closest I’d get.
We finally stopped at a hotel after driving for a while, since it was dark and late. “Where are we?” I asked as I sat up. I must have dozed off because I didn’t recall him getting off the highway.
“Somewhere in Northern Tennessee. Not much longer to go, but you need a good night’s rest and you won’t get that in the truck. I didn’t see much for food, but I’ll see if something delivers here. Be right back.”
He locked the doors and left the .38 for me again. My power nap had given me a little bit of energy, but I was starving. We hadn’t eaten since well before the DMV. It was only about nine o’clock but felt like midnight. Looking up, I saw that it was still cloudy. I watched the trees sway while I waited. It was probably about to storm. I pulled out my phone and started to look up places nearby that would deliver to get a head start on food. If it was going to storm and we were in the middle of nowhere, it would take forever to get someone out here.
I found a chain pizza place that said it would deliver, but since we had cash, I decided to call. Most of the apps wanted payment to complete the order. Just another reason to need ID. It would be great to have a debit card for shit like this.
Someone picked up and it sounded like a busy restaurant in the background. “Can you please hold?” the man on the line asked before promptly placing me on hold before I could answer. Thunder rumbled, then a lightning bolt lit up the sky. The lightning didn’t bother me because I learned at a young age that the safest place to be during a thunderstorm—besides inside a building—was a car, because of the tires. There hadn’t been any alerts for tornadoes and I enjoyed a good thunderstorm as long as it didn’t hail. It usually made for a good night’s sleep, but I wasn’t looking forward to walking in a deluge to get to the room.
Unable to sit still, I unbuckled myself and put the phone on speaker, setting it on the dashboard so I could reach down and grab my small bag. I was rummaging for my lip gloss, laughing at how much shit I stuffed in there when I saw movement from the corner of my eye. The hold music with the horrendous voice over was still playing when I looked over, expecting to see Falcon, but instead saw a masked man with something shiny in his hand rushing toward the truck. I dropped my bag and reached for the gun, hoping I could remember how to work it when the window shattered and the attacker opened the door.
I gritted my teeth, grunting as adrenaline shot through my veins, then I dropped the hammer and popped a shot off. The man fell to the ground but the glass behind me shattered. Before I could get my bearings to turn and shoot, I was being dragged from the truck. I kicked and screamed as terror filled me. Shards from the window cut through the skin on my back, stunning me into silence from the searing pain. Someone grabbed my wrist and put pressure near my thumb, and I yelled in pain as my hand opened and the gun dropped. The sound was muffled by the heavy rainfall and wind that had kicked up from the spring storm. “Fuck!” I screamed.
I was being held from behind, the person covering my mouth as I tried to scream out again as something tightened around my wrists. I was still trying to scream and kick as I was carried backward, watching the truck get further and further away as the driving rain stung my face.
Tears burned my eyes as I tried to wiggle and scream but the gloved hand over my mouth muffled each sound. I attempted to bite but wasn’t connecting with anything. Suddenly, I was dropped on my back, the force knocking the wind out of me so I couldn’t scream. I could only recoil in pain when everything went dark as a door slammed shut.
I still hadn’t found my voice and was reeling from being thrown into what I determined was a van, based on the sound of the sliding door. Multiple footsteps and voices filled the vehicle, and I was still seeing stars when something tightened around my ankles, and we rolled forward. A fucking kidnapper van. Seriously ?
After struggling to breathe, I forced myself to cough and was finally able to get air in and out of my lungs. But then the tears flowed freely and I started screaming, “Falcon, Falcon, Falcon!”
Before I could yell anything else, some kind of cloth was shoved into my mouth and my head was covered with some sort of mesh bag. My body shook with sobs and my face burned as tears and snot ran down and I couldn’t wipe them away.
I was dragged then slammed against the side of the van. “Hunker down. We got a long ride, sweetheart,” a man with a solid Jersey accent said.
Fuck. Would my biker find me before they killed me? He’d come for me, right?