Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Obi-Wan felt on top of the world. Last night had been…
He couldn’t come up with an adjective to adequately explain what it was.
He’d jumped the gun by telling Zita he loved her, he realized that, but wasn’t concerned that she hadn’t said it back.
The woman cared about him, that wasn’t in question.
But he’d most certainly taken her by surprise, and he never wanted her to tell him that she loved him out of some sense of obligation or because she felt it was expected.
Today would be long for both of them. Obi-Wan needed to get caught up with the team and the meetings they’d had while he was gone.
He was also looking forward to getting in the air again.
It was only a week, but he couldn’t wait to be back in the copilot seat with Buck.
Zita had the wrap-up meeting, where she’d be presenting her report on the injuries she’d treated while on set.
Then a lot of research to do on jobs and apartments in Virginia.
He’d see her again that night, when he went to pick her up to bring her back to his place.
They had one more night together before she’d head back to California to begin the process of shutting down her life there.
He’d miss her like crazy while she was gone, but he’d do his best to be patient, since the end result would be her living minutes away, instead of thousands of miles.
After making oatmeal and pancakes, along with large cups of coffee for them both, he sighed. “About ready?”
“Yeah. It feels weird that we won’t be spending the day together. I’ve gotten too used to looking up and seeing you throughout the day.”
She wasn’t wrong. “Same. But I’ll text you when I can, I want to know how your meeting goes this morning.”
“Okay. I think my report is after lunch, but I’ll let you know for sure.”
“All right.” Obi-Wan reached for Zita, wanting one last hug before they got on with their day.
She held on to him tightly as they stood in the foyer of his apartment.
Things would be different starting today, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for it.
Like her, he’d enjoyed being able to talk to her whenever he wanted.
Seeing her on set. Watching her work. But while it sucked returning to real life, Obi-Wan was also looking forward to it.
Getting back to a routine—this time, one that included Zita.
She pulled back and smiled up at him. He gently smoothed a lock of her hair behind her ear. She’d left it down, deciding she’d shower when she got to her motel room.
“Gonna miss you today,” she said softly.
“Same. But we’ll see each other soon enough.”
“I know. We need to go so you won’t be late. Casper will kick your butt if you’re late on your first day back.”
“He’s gonna kick my butt anyway,” Obi-Wan said with a laugh. “Just because he can. And to make me suffer for not working out for the last week.”
“I don’t know, it seems to me that you had a great workout last night.”
He chuckled. “True.” Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead, before turning and picking up her med bag.
He was getting used to hauling the thing around.
It wasn’t light, and he was impressed all over again by how effortlessly Zita dealt with it while on set.
He’d told her she could leave it at his place, but she insisted that even though she wasn’t planning on needing her medical supplies, she wanted to have them nearby… just in case.
He drove toward the motel, holding her hand. It was still dark out, and he was definitely going to be late to join his team at PT, but he didn’t care. Making sure Zita got into her room safe and sound was much more important.
He parked in front of the room she’d been assigned and hopped out of the driver’s seat.
He walked Zita to the door and stood by as she unlocked it and reached in and turned on the light.
The room was nothing special. Looked exactly like the last room she’d had.
Obi-Wan dropped her med bag just inside the door as she pulled her suitcases into the room.
Then he took her into his arms, unable to resist, and kissed the hell out of her.
Wanting her to know without words that when he’d said he loved her last night, he hadn’t been blowing smoke up her ass.
Hadn’t been caught up in great sex or the aftermath of an amazing orgasm.
They were both breathing hard when he finally forced himself to let her go.
“Damn,” Zita breathed.
Obi-Wan grinned. “I’ll see you tonight. And will text to see how things are going.”
“Okay. Same. I want to know how badly Casper and the rest of the guys are on your case about missing a week of work and PT.”
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I can handle them. Later, hon.”
“Bye,” she said softly.
Obi-Wan went back to his Jeep, and he saw Zita peeking out from the window. She waved, and he gave her a chin lift in return. Then he forced himself to back out of the parking spot and drive away.
Zita licked her lips and smiled when she tasted Sage there.
The man was seriously hot. That hug he’d given her this morning?
It had been one of the best hugs she’d ever gotten.
Spontaneous and “just because.” Being in Sage’s arms felt like coming home.
Because wherever he was, that was home. She’d had the realization as she’d stood in his embrace, simply enjoying the moment.
She figured that was why she wasn’t more worried about upending her life in California. She wanted to be where Sage was. It didn’t matter if they lived in his apartment, hers, in Virginia or Timbuktu. As long as they were together.
She huffed out a little laugh and picked up her smaller suitcase. She put it on the bed and unzipped it, grabbing her toiletry bag. She put it to the side and continued to rifle through her things, looking for the one set of nicer clothes she’d packed, with today’s meetings in mind.
A knock on the door had her looking up. Smiling and shaking her head, wondering what in the world Sage had forgotten, Zita walked over to the door.
“What did you—”
Her words stuck in her throat when she saw it wasn’t Sage at the door.
It was Silas Graves.
She didn’t get a chance to ask what he was doing there or what he wanted.
His fist reared back and he coldcocked her right in the face.
Zita went down like a rock, one hand going to her cheek in shock. The pain was overwhelming. Shooting through her face and down her body in a wave.
Silas didn’t give her a second to recover. He reached down and grabbed the front of her T-shirt in a meaty fist, holding her as his arm reared back once more.
Zita tried to protect herself from the punch that was coming, but she was too slow. Too dazed to cover her face.
This time, the pain was so extreme her body couldn’t cope. Everything went dark as she gave in to the excruciating agony.
When she came to, Zita blinked—and immediately realized the small movement caused her head to throb so badly, she felt nauseous. She had no idea where she was, except it was dark. It was taking every ounce of her control not to puke everywhere.
The pain in her head and face hadn’t receded, but eventually she realized she was in a car. More specifically, the trunk of a car. The hum of the motor, the way her body swayed back and forth as the vehicle changed lanes or turned, and the darkness all told her she was in deep shit here.
Doing her best not to panic, Zita slowly reached out, fumbled around where she thought the brake lights should be.
She’d seen more than one video about how to escape a trunk if you were locked inside.
How to disable the lights so maybe the driver would get pulled over.
Or to knock them out altogether and stick a hand out so people in other cars could see her waving for help.
But it was pitch black inside the trunk, and she couldn’t see what she was doing. She also had no tools to get the screws off the plates covering the electronic wires for the lights.
Feeling frustrated, Zita decided maybe her best bet was to scream. Perhaps someone at a stoplight would hear her and call the police.
She waited until the vehicle stopped, then yelled at the top of her lungs.
“Help me! I’m in the trunk! I’ve been kidnapped! Call the police! Please! Fire! Fire! Call nine-one-one!”
She’d heard once that yelling for help usually didn’t make people act, but saying there was a fire was more likely to get someone to do something.
Her yelling did get a reaction. But as far as she could tell, not from anyone who would help her. Silas—she assumed it was that asshole driving, since he’d been the one to hit her—turned on the radio. Loud.
The screaming already had her head throbbing even worse than before. Paired with the sudden pounding music, she couldn’t hold back the vomit that had been hovering in her throat.
The amazing breakfast she’d eaten not too long ago came up with a vengeance.
Zita did her best to puke off to the side of where she was lying, but once her stomach was empty, the smell in the trunk only made her misery worse.
Tears formed in her eyes. She wanted to be strong.
Wanted to be the kind of person who could save herself.
She’d also watched videos of women getting out of zip-ties, escaping their assailants, and basically being kick-ass.
And here she was, practically lying in her own vomit, helpless to do a damn thing to save herself.
She still had no idea why Silas had kidnapped her. He hadn’t said anything before punching her, and she’d been unconscious when he’d put her in this trunk. She had no idea where they were going.
The tears dripped down her cheeks, causing her more pain when the salty liquid seeped into the open wound on her face from Silas’s knuckles.