Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Twenty-eight hours.
My shoulder twitches. I stare at the notepad where I’ve jotted down the time. It’s been that long since I’ve reached out to Poppy. It’s been hours since I’ve been in this hotel room with nothing to do. Hours of nothing but staring out the window and wondering what the hell I signed up for.
I thought The Hunter’s Club was some sort of sex cult.
I mean, it’s literally listed on Google as a swinger’s bar, although I always suspected there was something deeper going on.
Everyone was standoffish, and I never seemed to fit in, but this?
A remote getaway? I thought that meant seminars about love and maybe kinky sex.
I mean, there was a seminar, but I just caught the tail end of it; no one thought to tell me it was happening.
Something about hunting and hours and tagged deer, I don’t fucking know. I’m not a hunter.
For the hundredth time, I look out the window of my room, over the tropical landscape.
I can’t help but think Poppy would love it here.
There’s a huge forest, mountains farther down, and in the close distance to the right, a sparkling expanse of water.
It’s beautiful in a way Oklahoma isn’t, with all kinds of vegetation and varying landscape.
Poppy is going to think I’ve given up on her. Like the last few months didn’t mean anything. They meant everything. I’m here in tropical who-knows-where-cult to prove that.
I stare at the hotel notepad I’ve filled with notes. I don’t have my phone, so I haven’t been able to write anything down in my regular app, and it’s driving me insane.
My gut churns.
I should have fought more when the fucking giant man took my phone before I got on the plane. He slapped a number in my hand, saying he’d give the phone back, but here I am, hours later, and no phone. I can only tell what time it is by the glowing red clock by the side of the bed.
I’ve heard people milling around and leaving the rooms. One quick glance showed they were all still wearing some sort of mask. That freaked me out on the plane. Because why are they doing that? Is everyone here sick? Did I pick a cult where everyone is sick?
I pace in front of my bed. Are they going to do some sort of weird blood ritual? Some animal sacrifice to cast a curse on anyone who would get between our love?
I stop short. I won’t be killing any animals. Also, not super into cursing anyone. Can we just enjoy our tropical getaway, throw a glitter bomb on our enemies’ porches, and call it good? Oh, and get medicated for the mask thing.
I start pacing again. Why the hell did I even get on that plane?
Again, I curse the bottle of tequila I drank the night before.
They say tequila will make your clothes fall off, but it just makes me lonely.
Pretty sure I tried to sit next to someone on the flight, started chatting with him, then he got up and moved.
That hurt. People always seem to leave when I am around. I don’t get it.
My face burns. I’m never drinking again.
Suddenly, there’s a crack at my door. I jump, whirling to face it.
The crack comes again. Someone is knocking. Harshly.
My heart starts racing.
“Piano fingers!” It’s a female voice. “Get your bitch ass out of bed.”
A woman? I sneak up to the door and peek through the peephole.
There’s a woman standing outside my room, and not just any woman.
The woman with the shaved blonde hair from the bar.
The woman who got me to sign up for this shit in the first place.
The woman who can answer why my phone was taken away, what the hell these games are, and when I can see Poppy again.
Unlocking the door, I yank it open.
She gives me a bored look. “Quit hiding. Tonight’s the big night.”
“Tonight?”
The woman is holding something and wearing a shirt that says, ‘You say “kill me” one more time, and I’ll take it seriously’.
“Games start in ten minutes.” She hands me the thing in her hand. It’s a deer skull. Only, it’s not a deer skull, it’s a mask.
I don’t take the mask. “What the hell is going on? Where’s my phone?”
“Take it.” She shoves the mask into my stomach, then acts like she’s going to drop it.
I catch it, reluctantly. “What is up with all the masks?”
I think I notice a smirk before it’s gone again. “Just put it on and come downstairs.”
“Is everyone contagious? Will I get my phone?”
“Sure, kid.” She pulls a half-mask up from her neck. As she does, a man appears at the end of the hallway.
“Oh shit,” the woman mutters, before he starts striding toward us. He’s huge, with dark hair and mean, empty eyes. He’s the kind of person I’d cross the street to avoid.
I start to back into the room, but the woman holds her ground and just crosses her arms. The man’s gaze snaps between us, then at the mask I’m holding.
Suddenly, he’s right there in front of me, and his hand is around my neck, shoving me against the door.
I stumble, but he follows, slamming me and the door against the doorstop. “Who the fuck are you?”
All the air is crushed out of my lungs, and I struggle to breathe.
The man cocks his head.
“Leave him alone, Manson. He’s just a toy.” The woman sounds bored.
“We have a toy, Riley. She’s waiting for us.” The man’s fingers squeeze my neck harder, and I can feel my heartbeat under my skull. I scramble, scratching at his arms, but his grip doesn’t relent.
There’s a puff of air. “You’re no fun.”
Pound, pound, pound. My head is a drum.
I shouldn’t have come here. I need to go home.
Then, the hand lets go. I crumple, stumbling away from them, sucking in a breath. Slowly, the darkness at the edge of my vision recedes, and I whirl to face both of them.
The woman, Riley, grins at me. “Meet my man.”
Her man, the one she called Manson, stares at me with barely-concealed anger. He looks like he could break me in two and wouldn’t bat an eye.
“What the fuck was that?” I rasp.
Manson raises an eyebrow and looks at Riley, ignoring me. She just throws her hands in the air. “You left me unattended. What was I supposed to do?”
Manson growls at her. Actually growls.
I take a step back.
“Get back to the room. Now.” Manson starts to back Riley down the hall, and I watch my only source of answers leaving. A rush of adrenaline fills me.
“Wait.” I stumble after them. “I need my phone.” I need to get out of here. Need to find out what’s going on.
Both ignore me, Manson shoving Riley down the hall while she bickers with him. Then, they’re gone. As I round the corner, the elevator doors are shutting. Running, I pound on the down button.
They don’t open.
I stall, completely at a loss. What in the actual fuck is going on? Did I just chase after them like he didn’t choke-slam me against the wall?
That’s assault.
I take a step back, fingers ghosting along my throat. I need to call the cops. I need to call the fucking cops.
I start for my room to make the call, only to realize I don’t have a phone. Because they took it.
Furiously, I jot notes down.
I wonder what the hell calling the cops even looks like here. How long will it take?
Slowly, the couple’s conversation fills my mind. Riley called me a toy.
Something is definitely not right here.
I step back into my room, an overwhelming amount of emotions washing over me. Fear, anger, confusion, and as the door clicks behind me, loneliness.
Something tells me there are no cops here. I’m alone. One hundred percent alone. Always alone. Poppy doesn’t even know I’m here. I told her I was doing something to prove my love, but I don’t know if she even saw the email. Would she come looking for me if something happened?
I stare at the door, a tight feeling wrapping my gut and squeezing. Because I know the answer to that.
She wouldn’t.
No one would. Well, possibly Riley. But I’m pretty sure I don’t want anything to do with whatever Riley has to offer.
My ears start ringing, and it feels like something very bad is about to happen. And I’m getting a horrible feeling that no one will know or care when it does.