4. Odell
FOUR
ODELL
The fight went out of me because I had to conserve my strength. I curled myself into a ball and rested my head on the door. This was a fancy car, and I couldn’t figure out how to unlock the door.
Instead, I tried to concentrate on the good news: I wasn’t married to that asshat.His cologne, the way he held himself as though he was going to fall to all fours, while swishing an imaginary tail and pouncing on me, was terrifying.
Goosebumps crawled over my body when I remembered his piercing gaze. As he’d ogled me, the only thing I could compare it to was a sci-fi movie where the bad guy drained his opponent’s brain matter.
But I was letting my imagination run wild. Yeah, he exhibited animalistic tendencies, but he was all bluster. When asshat number two confronted him, he backed off.
That was the good news.
The bad was that I’d been kidnapped by asshat two. Hunter. The name was fitting, because though he rescued me from Draven, he was keeping me prisoner in his car and tearing through the streets pretending he was an F1 driver.
My inclination was to ask him where we were going, but instinct told me I either wouldn’t get an answer or he’d drone on about that being on a need-to-know basis. Best if I stayed quiet, studied him, and kept an eye on my changing location.
We were in the midst of the business district, and as I scanned the streets, the crowds thinned. I almost panicked, thinking he was taking me out of the city and into the countryside.
But the car headed into the nightclub area which was quiet in the middle of the day. I’d been in this area once, to pick up my college roommate, Anton, after he worked the night shift. Aunt Louisa still kept in contact with him, more than I did.
My heart was hammering so hard my chest hurt, and I made an effort to slow my breathing. In and out. In and out. Slow and easy. If I hyperventilated, I couldn’t make a run for it.
Focus, Odell .
I side-eyed Hunter. Like Draven, he wore a powerful cologne that clashed with the new-leather fragrance from the seats. But unlike the guy I was supposed to marry, Hunter’s aftershave wasn’t harsh and putrid with more than a hint of terror. His auburn-tipped hair was coiffed perfectly, and those intense green eyes gave the impression he could see right through me.
Oh gods, bile slid up my throat, and I willed it down. I’d survived this far, and Hunter might freak if I messed up his expensive car.
Scanning the buildings on either side of the street, I noted the clubs were in darkness, giving the area an ominous feel. Not surprising, as it was morning. I gripped the edge of the leather seat when he screeched to a halt outside an imposing black building.
But we were at what I assumed was the back entrance because there were no neon lights and signage, and the club name was in small letters on the wall. La Luna Noir. Oh my gods, Anton had pointed out this place, though it had been modernized since that early-morning visit I’d made. He’d said it was owned by the most powerful mafia organization in the state. The name was grammatically incorrect, and it grated on me.
Bringing me here suggested Draven had sold my debt to Hunter. My head was fuzzy on how that had happened between City Hall and here, but my thoughts were entangled with fear, loathing, and shock, so what did I know? Perhaps the mafia had an app for their indentured labor. But I refused to allow my mind to go there.
Hunter killed the engine, and I gripped the door handle. The moment he unlocked it, I’d take off. There was no one around, so calling for help was pointless.
“Don’t think about running. You’re safer with me than on the street with no protection.”
“Says you,” I shot back.
He got out, and I fumbled at the door, but it wouldn’t unlock. He opened it from the outside and took hold of me. Despite wanting to spit in his face, heat radiated from his fingers with the manicured nails, and spread over my flesh. My hands tingled but my belly had settled, which was something, I supposed.
While Draven had evoked fear in me, Hunter was… he was… My emotions were so tangled I couldn’t come up with a word. He wasn’t a good guy, but I’d guess he wasn’t as cruel as Draven.
I told my body it was a traitor as I got out, the cool air, layered with pollution, hitting my face. My legs betrayed me and I stumbled, but my kidnapper caught me. My mind was frazzled, fried to a crisp, and I couldn’t fathom how he’d reacted so quickly.
“Let me go. I’m not your property.” Technically I probably was, as Draven may have sold me. I was likely an indentured servant.
“No time for talking.” His fingers dug into my skin as he dragged me toward the wall where I picked up the faint outline of a door.
He pressed his finger on a device stuck to the cladding before leaning in. It appeared to be scanning his retina. Yikes, with this amount of security, I might never leave the building until I was carried out feet first.
The place was in darkness apart from dim security lighting. I blinked, trying to adjust my eyes and memorizing how to escape.
Hauling me down stairs, he banged my knee on the railing, and I stifled a groan, refusing to acknowledge he’d caused me pain. My chest was heaving as I tamped down my anxiety and tried to get enough air in my lungs.
We passed a large storage area, and if Hunter locked me in a teeny-tiny room, I’d gladly marry that oaf, Draven, in return for fresh air.
The monster was claiming me. Not Hunter, not Draven, but the one that crawled over me when I was in a small space and couldn’t get out.
I tugged at my hand, but his grip was vise-like. Clutching my throat with the other hand, I gasped, “I’m claustrophobic.”
He paused and swung around. “I wish I’d known that. Maybe this isn’t the best place to keep you.”
There was so much wrong with that sentence, but the anxiety continued to claw at me.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Next time, send a warning when you’re going to kidnap me and I’ll provide a list of my phobias, food intolerances, and allergies.”
His face softened. “You can tell me and I’ll get you suitable food.”
I didn’t have any. I’d been snarky and trying to make a point. “It’s not important.” One positive was that my anger was overpowering my panic.
“What helps with your phobia? Singing? Listening to music? A fan blowing on your face? Tell me and I’ll make it better.”
The only way to make things better was to turn back time to last night. Or maybe before Uncle made his first bet. No, to the day before Uncle Stan had his accident. That was when his life changed.
But that was impossible, and I was out of options unless I considered begging.
“Singing.” Aunt Louisa had sung to me as a kid when I said the walls were closing in.
“Okay. Ummm, I don’t know many songs, but my niece and nephews love nursery rhymes. Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall.”
A laugh bubbled up my throat, and I couldn’t stifle it. It burst out of me, and I joined Hunter in singing the rhyme.
There were more corridors and closed doors leading off them. Each had a fingerprint lock or retina scanning device on the door. But eventually, he paused at one door that looked much like all the others.
The nondescript space had old filing cabinets lining one wall and boxes overflowing with paperwork on the other. The panelling facing us had photos of what appeared to be this building and its progression through the years.
Hunter had stopped singing, and my voice trailed away. “If I don’t get some fresh air, I’m going to faint, and when my heart stops beating, you’ll be arrested for murder.” I reflected on what I’d said. “Maybe manslaughter.”
His cheeks blanched of color, and his bottom lip trembled. I almost felt sorry for the guy until I reminded myself he was locking me up in a deep, dark dungeon.
“I would breathe life into you if you stopped breathing.”
This guy was so dramatic and reminded me of the kids I taught, but I’d collapse in a heap if I didn’t get out of here.
“But I understand it doesn’t appear that way.” He waved his hand toward the wall. “Plenty of fresh air down here. I had it specially designed.”
Damn. Those documentaries on serial killers, the ones I watched long into the night when I couldn’t sleep, reared their heads. Maybe he didn’t own the debt and my future was more bleak than I thought.
I had it all wrong. He was going to tie me up, maybe starve me, and perhaps send pieces of me to Aunt Louisa. She had no money for a ransom. Maybe this guy had a fetish for almost-married omegas and he stalked City Hall.
Draven might have been his accomplice and this was a ploy.
I’d taken for granted the sun shining every morning, the wind blowing my hair out of place, slushing through snow, my feet freezing on the way to work. And now I’d be facing four walls, and I’d never see my aunt again. Or the kids I taught.
My kidnapper placed his hand on the wall and a panel slid to the side, like a pocket door. “This is where you’ll be safe.”
There was yet another retina scanner, and he pulled me into a dark space and the door closed behind us.
The ominous click signaled there was no going back .