Chapter Five
Romy
Present Time
I ’m not dreaming.
This is real.
Last night I went to meet the person who wrote me the note and now I’m in a freaking hole in the floor of only God knows where.
Think.
How do I get out of here? Who put me here?
Despite the dark, confusing, terrifying state I’m in, the small act of the man opening the door and pointing a gun in my face is exactly what I needed to find clarity. The smell of my own pee soaking my jeans helps put things in perspective too.
His small moment of intimidation was a gift.
I’m not crazy.
This is not all in my head.
At midnight, I’d walked into the Irish pub down the street from my hotel in anticipation of meeting the person who’d written me a note. While waiting, a handsome man sidled up at the bar next to me and struck up a conversation. There was something familiar about him.
Think.
Since I have nothing else to do but rack my brain, I begin trying to place the man—Theo—to see where I knew him from. Was he a celebrity? Someone from LA I’d met? An associate of Dad’s from New York?
Brown hair.
Tuxedo.
Wait. He was wearing a tuxedo, which is an odd choice of clothing for a casual bar. That means he was at the event.
I replay each step, conversation, and face from the CUP even last night. My thoughts linger on Isla and her sleazy husband. Rewind. Me and Isla discussing the Crowne family.
One man had his back to us.
The younger one.
Same hair. Same build.
Holy crap!
Theo is a Crowne. And somehow, he managed to get me here. How? I try to piece together our conversation, but it’s messy. Finally, after minutes or hours of stewing, it begins to form clearly.
“This seat taken?” a deep voice with a playful lilt asks.
When I turn to see the guy standing near me, heat floods my cheeks. He’s hot. Hotter than the barista near Megan’s dorm. Green eyes that practically glow devour me like I’m something savory he’d like to eat. Normally, that’d creep me out, but when the guy is drop-dead gorgeous, all intelligence flies out the window.
“Sure,” I say, annoyed with the fact I changed back into my regular clothes. This guy is dressed impeccably and I’m wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a USC hoodie. “I’m meeting someone, though.”
The beautiful man juts out his bottom lip in mock sadness. It brings an instant smile to my face. Jeez, he even smells good too. His cologne cuts through the heavy tobacco scent that permeates the air. Because I like it, I lean slightly toward him to have a little sniff.
“Your boyfriend?” the guy asks. “Lucky guy.”
Again, my cheeks blaze hot. It’s not that I’m not used to getting hit on. It’s just that typically I have no interest in whomever is flirting. This guy, however, is exactly my type—tall, playful, boyish good looks, lovely green eyes, and a killer smile.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I say too quickly. “Just waiting on a contact.”
“You’re a journalist?”
“No.” I let out a small laugh. “Just looking for a friend.”
“Is she lost?”
Before I can answer, he waves to the bartender and then holds up two fingers. The bartender gives him a small nod before he starts making drinks. I’m curious as to how the bartender even knew what to make this guy.
“Your friend,” the guy says. “Is she lost?”
“Someone kidnapped her,” I blurt out. “At least that’s my theory.”
His eyebrows lift. “Why aren’t the police looking for her then?”
“Because they don’t care,” I declare with a huff. “No one cares. I’m Romy, by the way.”
The man takes my outstretched hand and gives it a warm, firm shake. “Theo. Nice to meet you. And why don’t they care?”
The bartender sets down two shots in front of us. Theo nudges one my way and grins. “For you.”
Just thinking about the worthless detective back in LA has me grabbing the shot glass and knocking back the fiery liquid just to erase his ineptness from my mind.
“Thanks, Theo,” I say with a smile.
He reaches for me with his thumb and wipes my bottom lip. A thrill of fiery heat races through me, pooling at my core. “You had some on your lip,” he says, a devilish smirk on his handsome face. “I took care of you.”
I can’t help the stupid grin that makes its way across my face. Then I lick my bottom lip where his thumb touched me. It tastes…bitter.
“Tell me more about your friend,” Theo says before downing his own shot. “Maybe I can help. I have connections everywhere.”
Bile creeps up my throat. Everything got blurry after that. I thought I was getting drunk from one shot. When he practically had to help me off my barstool with the promise to take me back to my hotel, so I’d be safe, I stupidly let him lead me out of there. I willingly crawled into the back of his black SUV and passed out almost immediately.
He had something on his thumb.
Theo drugged me.
Hot tears burn my eyes as I truly consider the hellish situation I’m in. Theo Crowne set me up. There was no lead. It was all a ruse to get me into this wooden hole in the floor.
Why?
Because I was asking too many questions about Megan?
I swipe at the tear that races down my cheek. I’d known she was taken. Absolutely not crazy but on to the truth about her. And, because of it, I walked straight into the arms of her abductor.
Why would the Crowne family take Megan? Why would they take me? What happens now? Did Megan spend time in this box too?
The utter loneliness and despair threaten to send me into a panic attack. I haven’t felt this powerless since…well, childhood. But, unlike then, I know for a fact this is real. This isn’t some girlish nightmare on repeat that therapy and drugs can chase away.
This is happening.
I’ve been kidnapped.
I take several measured breaths, trying not to freak out about the lack of air. There seems to be a rug covering the space I’m trapped in. I’m not completely sealed off, so I shouldn’t die. Obsessing over my air situation won’t help more pressing matters.
I have to get out of here.
Rolling onto my stomach, I attempt to get my knees and elbows beneath me. The box can’t be any deeper than two feet, so it’s not an easy feat. Once I’ve braced myself, I use my back to push at the top of the box. Of course it goes nowhere. The lock keeping me here and the hinges to the door are solid. It was worth a try, though.
Temporarily defeated, I roll onto my back again. My shirt is completely soaked through with sweat. If I had enough room, I’d rip off my hoodie as well. I’m thirsty and am about to crawl out of my own skin. At some point, they have to let me out of here. I seriously doubt the Crownes kidnapped me just to let me rot under the floors.
My mind derails to an Edgar Allen Poe poem I read last year in high school. I softly recite parts of the poem that I memorized, but it does nothing to calm me. If anything, it spooks me even more as I wonder if there are others around me in their own boxes. Despite the warmth, I shiver uncontrollably.
Shock.
I’m going into shock.
No.
I use some of Maura’s tried-and-true techniques to calm my racing mind. First, I count to a hundred. Then I recall a place that makes me happy. For some reason, I think of pumpkin pie frappes, a cute barista, and Megan’s shy smile.
Yes, focus on her.
You’re here because of her.
No one will come looking for Megan, but that’s not true for me. I have a family who can barely leave me alone to live my own life across the country. Dad has requirements for me, like visiting them at Christmas. Bastian will freak the hell out if I don’t text him regularly. Eva will wonder why I don’t respond to her endless makeup tutorial reels she sends me. And Sarai, if I don’t respond about my travel plans, will relentlessly hound me.
If I’m unable to answer, Dad will use every resource at his will to get ahold of me.
For once, I’m deeply grateful for a controlling, overbearing, influential, and wealthy father.
Once my heart rate begins to slow down, I attempt to learn my surroundings. This box is about as wide as it is deep. I scoot down and within inches, my tennis shoes touch the other end of the box. Definitely has coffin vibes going on. It’s a trapdoor in the floor, locked, and covered by a rug. And the person on the other end has a gun.
Who was the person?
Though I didn’t see them, I can deduce who it could be. He’d said, “Oh, little brother, what have you done this time?”
That means it had to be Caius or Gareth Crowne.
I know nothing about these men, nor have I spoken to them before, but I have a hunch it was Caius. The voice was cold and utterly devoid of emotion. From what I’d seen on his face last night, he fits the bill.
His words are a clue, though.
He’d asked Theo, who I’m pretty sure wasn’t even in the room, what he’d done when kidnapping me. Even though he didn’t give any tells in his tone, I could sense his displeasure and annoyance at the situation.
I’m a problem.
A mess to clean up.
He also didn’t sound particularly surprised. This is valuable information. Perhaps Theo is known for doing impulsive things like kidnapping girls. Maybe that’s what happened to Megan. Eventually, these men are going to find out I’m not something that can be swept under the literal rug and forgotten.
I’m someone important.
Well, at least my dad is.
Pride surges through me. It’s not often I feel pleasure at having the Langston last name. In this moment, I’m incredibly grateful.
They can’t make me disappear without consequences.
A small, crazed laugh bubbles out of me. Then, because I can’t control it, I giggle until I’m crying. I just have to survive long enough to see justice served.
No one comes to my aid, even after my rollercoaster emotional meltdown in the box. For all I know, they can’t even hear me. If there were other captives nearby, I’d assume they’d have cried out to me.
I’m all alone.
My bladder throbs again despite uncontrollably releasing when the door was opened. All I want is a shower, a bed, and to pretend this never happened.
But it is happening.
I can’t pretend this reality away.
If only they’d have let me keep my purse. My captors aren’t stupid. It makes me wonder, though, if Bastian has tried to call. He’s never one to be ignored for long.
A raised voice has me freezing. My thoughts become laser focused as I strain to hear what’s being said. It’s deep and definitely male. I can almost make out another voice, also deep.
Are they having an argument?
“I didn’t know!”
The shout was loud and closer. My heart is pounding in my chest, making my ears throb too, but I’m determined to listen. I still my breathing and don’t move so I can make out what else is being said.
“…impulsive…”
“At least I have a pulse!”
“…won’t be pleased…”
The voices fade again. If I had to guess, it’s Theo defending his actions and Caius scolding him. Question is, what happens to me after this argument?
Maybe they’ll just let me go.
The stupidity of that thought has me shaking my head. These men are powerful people. Letting me go would cause even more problems.
I could offer to sign an NDA.
They kidnapped you, girl. They’re beyond following legalities.
“You tell him,” Caius growls from close by. “In the meantime, I’m going to try to fix this.”
A door slams after that, rattling my wooden cage.
Then the footsteps are back.
The jangling keys are back.
The blinding light is back.
The gun in my face is back.
Caius is back.
Before I can scream or fight, something sharp pricks my neck. It only takes a few seconds as heat rushes from the puncture site.
Everything goes black.