2. Isla
CHAPTER 2
ISLA
I felt the fight leave me.
My body slumped, and I threw one hand against the wall for balance before my legs completely gave out. The air was cold and stale, biting through the thin fabric of my pants and lightweight summer jacket. I forced my breathing to slow and even, measuring each inhale and exhale until the panic faded into a dull roar in the back of my mind.
I pressed my ear to the door, straining to hear anything—voices, footsteps, a clue about where I was or how many of them were out there. But the silence stretched, thick and endless.
I stepped back, my chest heaving. My fingers itched to pull out my phone to call—who? Zayn? Or Julian? Searching my pockets, I couldn’t find my phone. On my hands and knees, I searched the floor, which came up empty. Rocking back on my heels, I remembered I sent the text to Julian, and then I turned around, and the guy was there.
And…I dropped my phone.
Fuck .
Who the hell was going to notice me missing? Julian? No. I’d told him that Zayn wasn’t there, so he would think I was at home. If he responded to my text the way we’d left it earlier, he wouldn’t be expecting a call. And he knew me better than to try to talk tonight without me telling him that he was an idiot. Again.
Zayn? He might send a follow-up text, but would he panic if I didn’t answer? No, I hadn’t texted him in weeks. God knows I’d wanted to, I missed him so much.
Not the time, Isla.
My parents? Another big fat zero. I rarely called them midweek.
I had absolutely no one who would notice I was gone—not until tomorrow morning when Gerard might wonder where his in-house event planner was. But even then, would he actually be concerned? Christ, with Gerard, I wondered if he would even notice. Never mind raising an alarm.
There was no one who would miss me.
Shut up . I gritted my teeth, forcing the surge of hysteria back. I’d been too busy trying to fight them off to think of it before, but my purse was gone. Had they taken it—or had I left it behind? If the latter, a small kernel of hope bloomed. Someone would see it in the street, wouldn’t they?
In my bag were my keys, my wallet, and even the small can of mace I carried—which had proven my dad right that I would never use it when I needed it—was gone. I had no phone. Right now, all that mattered was that every lifeline I needed was gone.
I let out a sob, my hands clamping over my mouth to stop any more from escaping as I blinked rapidly to clear the blur of tears. This wasn’t the time to fall apart or to rage, cry, and curse every decision that led me here. Later . I could fall apart later when I was out of this hellhole.
The only way out was through. I would get through this .
The door was a bust, but this black room had to have something. My fingers skimmed the wall, searching for anything—a vent, a crack, something I could use. Rough concrete scraped my knuckles, and I hissed, pulling back. Determined to continue, I cautiously reached out again. I had a brief flare of hope when I felt the slick moisture. Water? Halfway to my mouth, my hand froze. Too thick and sticky for water.
The sickening realization of what else this could be staining the walls twisted my gut, and I fought down the nausea.
Was it blood? I was terrified to sniff it, both in case it was and in case it was something worse.
I pressed my other hand to my mouth, swallowing hard. Stay calm, Isla. Breathe.
I was still alive. Apart from a few rough grabs and probably a couple of bruises, I wasn’t harmed. Did that mean they needed me? Or did it just mean they hadn’t gotten to that part yet?
I sincerely hoped it was the former.
The guy who spoke to me, the boss? Maybe. Whatever. The guy said he thought that borrowing something of my friend’s would speed him along. Borrowing meant you planned to return the thing you took, right?
So, I was leverage? An incentive for Julian to pay? Or…if this wasn’t Julian, then for Zayn to do something. Because they were the only two men in my life. Okay, one wasn’t in my life anymore, but they were the only two where something like this would be possible.
And until this morning, I would have said only one man in my life would have the ability to put me in this kind of danger, and that man’s name wouldn’t have been my best friend , Julian .
And if it wasn’t Zayn that was involved…then I still had a chance. Because Julian would tell him. He’d tell him what he had done and what he had asked, and Zayn would help him find me.
Because that’s what Zayn did for Julian. And me. He helped us. When we needed him, he stepped up.
I just needed to wait.
I just didn’t know how long it would be. The thought of being in here for days was more terrifying than the thought of them letting me out if it wasn’t Zayn on the other side of the door coming to collect me.
I don’t know how long I stood there, my thoughts churning over and over. My hands ran over walls coated in God knows what, searching for a way out. I didn’t want to sit down; I had no idea what I would be sitting in, but my legs were tired. Adrenaline had quickly turned to exhaustion the longer I was locked in here.
I turned toward the door, realizing I could hear faint voices. The walls muffled the voices, but I could definitely hear them. Moving closer to the door, I pressed my ear against it, concentrating on the rise and fall of whoever was speaking. However, they were too low for me to hear.
Hearing voices when I heard nothing before was a good thing, wasn’t it? It meant they hadn’t left me here alone.
The door rattled, and I sprang away in fright, sucking in a breath as I stumbled backwards. The room flooded with harsh fluorescent light, blinding me, and I instinctively threw my hand up to shield my eyes from the sudden glare.
A figure filled the doorway, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw it was the guy in the suit from earlier. He looked me over, his eyes pausing on my hands.
“Comfortable?” he asked, one brow arched in mockery.
“Go to hell. ”
He gave me that wide toothy smile again and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. I flinched backward when he drew his hand out so quickly, but he merely held out a handkerchief.
“You’re bleeding,” he told me, his voice bored. “There’s enough blood in here. I don’t need you adding to it.”
Instinctively, I turned to the wall. I’d felt the moisture, and my mouth was dry as I saw the dark crimson streaks across it, confirming my fears that the walls were stained with blood.
“Take it, and out you come. We’re going to have a little chat.”
I hesitated before taking the handkerchief. Although he didn’t look much older than me, a pristine white handkerchief for someone his age was…weird.
“I have nothing to say to you,” I said, forcing myself to lift my chin in defiance.
“Probably not,” he conceded. “But, I’m bored, and you’re prettier to look at than the walls, so out you come.” He stepped forward, his hand held out in invitation. “I won’t ask again, Isla. You come out on your feet, or I drag you out on your knees. Your choice.”
“I can walk,” I murmured as I took small steps to the door.
“I thought you would.”
Two of the guys who took me were standing farther away, close but not overbearing. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Handkerchief walked in front of me; his body language was unbothered by the whole kidnapping element of his evening.
He patted the top of a wooden crate. “Sit.”
Hesitantly, I did as I was told, glancing around me, making sure I knew where the other two were at all times .
“So, an event planner,” he started casually as he took his own seat. “What exactly do you do?”
“I plan events.”
He waited, and when I didn’t continue, he sighed loudly. “I thought we might have a conversation. Is this not going to be that? You think I want the obvious stated?” he asked, pointing to the other two men. “I can do that with them .” His head cocked as he looked me over. “You can keep that.”
Looking down, I saw his once-white handkerchief was stained red. “Oh.” I knew not all of it was mine, but it was still a very sobering sight—no more sobering than being kidnapped. I knew I was processing too much, and my mind had now gone to the place where Isla panics and thinks inappropriate things.
I was thinking about myself in the third person.
That was stupid.
Like when you laughed at funerals and people stared, which made you more nervous, so you laughed harder.
I giggled.
“Are you having a breakdown?”
I nodded. “I think I am.”
His sigh sounded bored and unamused. “What was the last event you planned?”
“Engagement party,” I answered automatically. My eyes were still on my bloodstained handkerchief.
“Where was it?”
“The Grand,” I carried on, not recognizing the sound of my voice. “In the ballroom. Party of eighty. Their wedding is going to be big.” I turned to check that the two guys hadn’t moved.
They hadn’t.
“So…you’re a party planner? ”
I looked up. He was watching me closely, but he looked mildly interested, and my eyes dropped to my hands to avoid maintaining eye contact. “No, but I get that a lot. A party planner plans…well…parties. Event planners plan events . It doesn’t have to be a party. It can be a conference, an annual gathering, a workplace seminar. You know, that kind of thing.”
“You make money?” he asked, and I looked up in surprise.
“I don’t think it’s the kind of money you would be interested in.”
He smiled. It seemed genuine. Less teeth. “I’m always interested in money.”
I swallowed, looking away. “Can I get some water? Please?”
“Sure.” He waved at one of the others, and I assumed that was him placing a water order. “How long have you planned events?”
“Since I left college. I used to be a wedding planner. I branched out.”
He nodded as he watched me, his eyes never letting me see what he was thinking. “I imagine that gets boring fast.”
“It’s demanding.”
“Conferences aren’t?”
“A different kind. Less yelling and more tears.” I jumped when a bottle of water was handed to me. I never even heard him approach. I took it with a shaky hand, pleased to see the cap was untouched.
“You live alone?”
The question surprised me. I looked at him like a deer in headlights, my mind blank.
“Wh… What?”
He leaned forward. “Do you live alone, Isla? ”
I unscrewed the cap. “Well, your guys knew where to pick me up from, so I’m guessing you already know.”
He grinned. Definitely genuine this time. I could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. He stood smoothly. “Nice that you’re calmer now.”
I almost protested, but I realized I was. He’d asked me generic questions, questions I had answered a hundred times before. What’s your job? How long have you been doing it? What’s the difference between a party planner and an event planner? Questions I could answer in my sleep.
His grin deepened when he saw I’d figured it out.
“So,” he began. “Your lover”—he saw my look—”boyfriend? I don’t know or care what you call yourselves. He owes me a lot of money.”
So this was about money. “Julian?”
For the first time since I’d been here, he looked surprised. “How many boyfriends have you got?” He looked over my head as he spoke, and I heard the two behind me chuckle.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say none , but I caught myself in time. He thought I was Julian’s girlfriend. Maybe he didn’t know as much about me as I thought. I could use that. And for the first time tonight, I felt a spark of confidence returning.
“Shouldn’t you be talking to him about this?” I asked, careful to keep my tone polite. If he didn’t know about Zayn, was that to my advantage?
His jovial tone was gone, and the dead eyes were back. “He’s avoiding my calls. He’s avoiding the places I know he likes to go. He’s avoiding me .”
“I can’t help you with that,” I told him, fear tingling over my spine again as I watched his whole personality change in front of me.
The shark smile was flashed at me. “But you can. I figured— why not bring the mountain to Muhammed?” He looked me over. “You know the saying, right? A clever girl like you?”
“I do.” I took a sip of water, and it was all I could do not to down the entire bottle in one go. “I don’t think taking me will help you,” I said, my voice quiet. “I don’t have any money.” My breath hitched, and my nails bit into my palms.
“I don’t want your money, Isla. You work hard. You seem to have a sensible head on your shoulders. I want my money. Your boyfriend has it, and I want it back.”
“Is it a lot?” Julian hadn’t actually told me. He just said it was a lot more than the two hundred and fifty thousand.
There were the teeth again. “Yeah. It is.”
I drank more water, stalling for time, and by the look in his eye, he knew exactly what I was doing. “That might take some time to get together.”
He smirked, his eyes dark and glittering. “We’ve got time. And your boyfriend has friends in high places.”
Shit, he does know Zayn.
He snapped his fingers, and the two guards stepped forward. They gripped my arms, jerking me off the wooden box I’d been sitting on with brute force, and I dropped the bottle of water.
“Don’t fight it, Isla,” Suit scolded me as I struggled. “I just need you closer.”
He looked me over as he plucked a phone out of his pants pocket. My phone. “Let’s see if your boyfriend picks up this time.”
“He’s not?—”
“Shh, Isla,” he said, not even looking at me. “If he cares, he’ll find a way, and then he’ll come running with my money. If not—” He shrugged. “Well, let’s not focus on that problem yet.”
My chest heaved, my eyes stinging with tears .
He looked up and smiled with malicious delight. “Be a good girl,” he crooned, handing me the phone. “Call him.”
My heart stopped, and my blood turned to ice.
His smile widened, teeth white and sharp. “Or don’t. Your choice. But if you want to see tomorrow—” He tapped the phone meaningfully. “Dial.”
I almost dropped the phone my hand was shaking so badly. “And say what?”
“Get him on the phone. I’ll do the rest.”
My tears spilled over, running freely down my cheeks. I had fought so hard not to let them see me cry, but the very thought that I had to call Julian and that this bastard would talk to him and threaten him with hurting me was too much.
I pressed call on Julian’s name. He answered on the second ring. He always did.
“Isla, did you get my texts?”
“Julian…” I started to cry.
“Isla? Isla! What is it?”
The phone was smoothly removed from my hand. “Hello, Julian. You’ve been avoiding me.” I could hear the stunned silence on the other end of the phone. The guy carried on speaking. Completely unperturbed. “You have something of mine, and now”—he turned to give me a wink—“I have something of yours.”
I felt sick. I could imagine how terrified Julian would be. My heart was racing so fast that I thought I was going to pass out.
The guy spoke again, looking me straight in the eye. “Pay your debt, or Isla pays in blood.”
He hung up just as I fainted.