Chapter Eleven #2
Had all that been a game to them? Would they usher me back into the afterlife only to give me a choice again, and then repeat the process again and again? Maybe this was my version of hell.
I gripped the phone tighter.
“Elliot, are you okay?” Silva asked.
“I don’t think so.” My gaze never left the stranger. It wasn’t Grym’s face peeking out from under that hood. It was someone else. Someone whose expression was carved from stone.
“I’m calling the police,” Sylvia said just before the phone went dead. The police would be great right about now.
“Who the hell are you?” A better question was how he’d gotten inside the house. I’d locked the front door. He must have just appeared the same way Grym had. “Grym said I had a choice. I’ve already made it.”
“Come with me.” He held out his hand as if that were all it would take for me to do what he said.
“Like hell.” I let the phone drop from my hand and tried to run around him, but he grabbed me by the waist.
I could hear Gary call my name, asking if I was all right and what was going on.
I fought as hard as I could, screaming for him to let go. Unfortunately, I think he must have drugged me or knocked me out, because one minute I was fighting him in Gary’s kitchen, and the next, he dumped me in the middle of what looked like a bedroom.
I narrowed my eyes even as I stayed on the floor. “I’m not letting you rape me, you dickhead.”
The guy had the audacity to contradict me. “I’m not a rapist.”
“You are a kidnapper, though.” I took in the room, all without taking my gaze off him. A king-sized bed was to my left, and he dumped me unceremoniously in the center of a rather soft rug in front of a fireplace.
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know what? You aren’t my problem. I don’t know why I agreed to retrieve you.”
I opened my mouth to scream, but the guy disappeared right in front of me.
One minute he was there, and the next he wasn’t.
The scream died in my throat. I blinked, then rubbed my eyes, thinking I might have imagined him from the start.
Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe Gary had really died, and I’d lost my mind from grief.
That made far more sense than the guy vanishing.
Maybe I was in a drug-induced coma. If so, my brain put me in a pretty kickass room. My bed at home was half the size, and I never made it.
I stood and walked to the door, trying the handle.
I didn’t expect it to be open, and it wasn’t.
I banged against it and yelled. I wished I had grabbed my cellphone.
The cops showing up would be great right about now.
I hoped they could track me here. But where was here?
And how could they track me without my phone?
I was so screwed.
I wanted to believe it was a fever dream, dying before and the choices Grym had laid on me didn’t seem real. Maybe I was high on something that wasn’t weed. I could hear my heart banging in my head as the panic set in even more. That didn’t happen in dreams. Not even in nightmares.
What the hell was going on?
The door might not open, but the window did when I tried it. I thought about screaming for help, but the houses were far enough apart that the neighbors might not hear me.
And that made me stop for a second, calm down enough to figure out where I was.
Delivering pizzas meant I knew many of Hollowbrook’s neighborhoods by sight, even from a second-story window.
The room’s window looked out onto the road.
I recognized the driveway because I had been there only yesterday.
“Son of a bitch.” I narrowed my eyes at no one in particular, but in my mind I pictured Grymley Reaper’s stupidly handsome face. “You fucker.”
I knew he had been too good to be true. No one that hot would be into a guy like me.
And what the hell made me so special that I got to choose whether to live or die?
I was going insane. That had to be it. It was all a trick my mind played on me. None of it was real. Maybe Grym wasn’t even real.
Whether fake or not, I was pissed at him.
Maybe he lived in a nice house in the expensive part of town because he was in the fucking mob.
Oh, my fucking god. That had to be it. Organized crime used to be a thing about seventy years ago in my hometown because we were right across the lake from Chicago.
The mob bosses used to own vacation homes.
There was even a rumor of an underground tunnel leading from one of the crime boss’s lake houses to the lake.
Supposedly, it was his escape route. I’d never seen it, but the story still circulates around town now and then.
Grym obviously wasn’t his real name. It was an alias so he could stay under the radar.
He probably thought I was an easy target for human trafficking.
I chuckled, then narrowed my eyes again.
He might sell me to the highest bidder or whatever, but I’d make his life so miserable he’d regret the day he met me right up until he handed me over to the buyer.
After that, I’d make the buyer pay. Then they’d demand a refund, and I’d double down on wreaking havoc.
I gave the neighborhood and the driveway one more scan. There weren’t any more cars in the driveway than there had been when I delivered his pizza, which seemed odd given that he had one of his minions come and get me.
I left the window open, then began searching the room. I didn’t know what I was searching for. Anything to aid my escape would be great.
I would have set the house on fire, except I was still in it and there wasn’t a fire in the fireplace. But there was a poker. That made a great weapon.
I grabbed it and opened the door on my right. It was a closet. I could tie the clothing together and climb out the window.
While I liked the plan, I regretted not being able to make Grym pay first.
The sheets and the blankets worked better for that sort of thing.
It was a big enough bed. I could just use a sheet to get down, but only if I could tie the knot tight enough.
I’d have to try it. The last thing I needed was to break something on the way down.
Dying again meant I’d have to face Grym in that dark place again.
No, thanks. It hadn’t been very spooky, but I still hated the dark.
I set the poker by the window and pulled the blanket off the bed, throwing it onto the floor, then pulled the top sheet off as well.
I just needed something sturdy to tie it to.
The most obvious choice was the bed. It was far enough from the window that I’d have to tie sheets together.
It would be a lot of knots, and I’d have to rely on them to hold my weight.
The dresser was also pretty far away, and it wouldn’t be as sturdy as the bed.
Maybe I needed another plan, but I didn’t have a better one available.
Just as I was pulling the fitted sheet off the bed, the door handle clicked as if someone were fiddling with it.
I stiffened and picked up the poker, holding it out before me.
I heard someone curse, then a deep voice said, “Cael, you asshole. Locking up my beloved like he’s a criminal. Fucking prick.”
“It’s for his safety.”
“He’s not a prisoner.”
“The Bureau will catch up with him soon. All the brothers are here, ready to protect him.” Protect me from what? And who were the brothers? Mob associates, probably.
And then the door opened, and Grymley stood there. He wore jeans and a T-shirt. Sexy fucker. I wanted to run him through with the poker and bloody his perfect, chiseled chest.
“Whoa,” he said, holding up his hands as if surrendering. “It’s just me, honey. Just me.” He stretched the last two words as if speaking to a spooked horse.
“Let me go, and I won’t call the cops.” I was totally going to call the police as soon as I had access to a phone, but Grym didn’t need to know that.
Grym stepped toward me, so I gripped the poker, wielding it like a sword. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
“Except kidnap me.” What an asshole thing for him to do. I would have nightmares for the rest of my life, even if he let me go and did nothing else.
“That was an accident.” He still spoke as if he were taming a wild mustang. It was annoying and a little scary. What if he really thought of me as less than human? What would that mean for me?
“How do you accidentally kidnap someone?”
“Good question,” Grym mumbled under his breath. “It all starts with having a best friend who’s gone mental.” He said it aloud, pointing to his head.
“It was no accident that your minion grabbed me, drugged me, and brought me here. Against. My. Will.”
Grym went into the hallway. I shifted so I could still see him. He had his hand around the throat of the guy who had kidnapped me. “Did you drug him?”
For the first time in my life, I was speechless.
It was more out of confusion than hope, and I didn’t know if I could trust him.
I wanted to. I mean, he was hot and seemed sincere.
“I don’t remember how I got to your house.
Listen, I’m only like twenty-seven years old and young and stuff.
Maybe you guys should just let me go and kidnap someone who’s lived a lot longer than me.
Older people know stuff. I don’t know jack crap about anything.
” They turned to me, staring as if I’d said something in a language they didn’t understand.
Grym’s hand was still around the big guy’s throat.
My little speech sounded way less confrontational, right?
And it was all true. I was younger than a lot of people and didn’t know crap about crap.
But what if it wasn’t information he wanted?
What if it were something else? Like a ritualistic sacrifice.
Maybe they were in a cult. Or what if it was sex?
I didn’t want to fuck both of them. How bad was it that I would still totally do Grym, though?
Grym released the big guy and refocused on me.
“No one is going to hurt you.” It was as if Grymley had read my mind. He let go of Mr. Kidnapper Thug. “You’re safe here.”
“Your definition of safe is shit. And if you make me your sacrifice, I promise to stick this thing through your fucking chest before you bloodlet me or whatever it is you weirdos plan to do.”
Mr. Kidnapper Thug chuckled. “I see your imagination is alive and well, kid.”
“Says the guy who showed up in Gary’s kitchen dressed like death.”
Grymley had the audacity to raise his eyebrows and smirk. “Can you put the poker down so we can talk? I’ll explain everything, but it’s a little disconcerting to have it waved in my face.”
“Do you know what else is disconcerting?” I waved the poker around just to irritate him and prove my point.
“Pretending to like someone just so you can have your friend kidnap them and use them as a virgin sacrifice. I’ve got news for you, Grymley Reaper.
I’m not a virgin, and I won’t just roll over and take it. You’ll have a fight on your hands.”
Grymley sighed. “Would you be more agreeable if I took you home?”
For the first time in my life, I was speechless.
But it was more out of confusion than hope.
Hope set in, except I didn’t know if I could trust him.
I wanted to. I mean, no lies were detected, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t lying.
It could mean he was just that good at it.
Maybe he was a sociopath. I bet sociopaths made great liars. But I wanted to believe he wasn’t.
I shouldn’t be thinking about how tight his pants were, how big his dick looked, and how I could see the outline.
Or about how he still held up his hands even though he could have put them down by now.
I wasn’t going to poke him. I mean, I would if he came at me, but he wasn’t doing that. He stopped when I told him to.
“You let me call a cab, and then if you want to come over tomorrow at ten o’clock in the morning, I’ll let you.” If kidnapping me really was an accident—I seriously doubted it was—then he would let me go, regardless.
He shook his head. Saying I was disappointed was an understatement. “You’re in danger, Elliot. It’s not safe for you to be alone.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why would I be in danger?”
I lived in the middle of farm country, with forests for a backyard.
Gary was my closest neighbor, living across the street.
We had acres of cornfields separating us from everyone else.
My mom had also been into hunting, so I had a couple of rifles at the house.
Not that I could aim worth a shit. Mom might have been into that sort of thing, but I couldn’t sit still even in nature, which I liked.
I was more of a hiking type of guy. Guns scared me.
I didn’t like them, just on principle, but I would defend myself if needed.
“How about I just take you home? We’ll talk there.” He smiled as if he were doing me a favor.
“I just said no to that idea.” Or had he forgotten? “No means no. Consent is beautiful, no matter what someone is consenting to.”
His gaze softened. “I’m not holding you against your will. I promise.”
“Well, the locked door and you standing between me and the only way out of this room say otherwise.” Actions spoke louder than words.
He did something that made me almost believe him. He stepped aside while keeping his hands up.
I hesitated, wondering if he would grab me as I passed him. The guy who brought me here was in the hall, too. He could easily stop me.
My stomach twisted, and fear gripped me, leaping into my chest as I took a step toward my getaway.
My instinct was to run to the bed and drag a blanket over me, pretending I was invisible, like I did when I was a kid.
Maybe Grymley had ostrich tendencies and couldn’t find me if he wasn’t looking directly at my face, but something told me he’d have me right where he wanted me if I didn’t run as fast and as far as possible.
I held the poker out in front of me, pointing it at him as I took cautious steps toward the door.
I made it out without Grymley moving a muscle. Mr. Kidnapper Thug held up his hands, but the other fourteen people didn’t.
Thirteen men and one woman stood in the hall, blocking the way down the steps.
“Let him pass,” Grymley said. He sounded close enough to touch me, but he didn’t. His deep voice washed over me, soothing my fear, though it shouldn’t have. He was my captor. Nothing about him should bring me comfort.
People filed down the stairs, and I waited. I could almost feel Grymley’s breath on the back of my neck. “Go ahead. They won’t hurt you.”
I sucked in a breath and walked down the hall. By the time I reached the stairs, I was running. Everyone stared as I headed for the door. I still carried the poker as I ran down the sidewalk. I probably looked certifiable, but I didn’t care. I was out of there.
I didn’t stop running until I got a stitch in my side.