Chapter 19
Nineteen
Harper
I’m really getting more perturbed with Dante every passing day. Missing Luca’s game the first week I started at the bar, I could understand. I thought I’d be training.
But the fact that he’s scheduling me during every single one of Luca’s games is a travesty.
Dante may not give a shit about his son’s hockey career, but I do.
I like watching Luca play, cheering him on with my friends, and it’s great for Zeke to see his daddy play hockey.
Irritation streams through me, and I want to scream at anyone who gets in my way.
Not a great start to my evening bartending, where I’m supposed to put on a smile, be friendly, and serve the patrons.
When I start my shift, Sophia leaves. She’ll make the game and maybe when I graduate, if I’m still stuck working this place, I can switch shifts and cover weekdays. Although the tips are probably crap.
And will it even matter?
Luca hasn’t talked about playing professional hockey. I’ve heard from his teammates that draft eligibility is eighteen to twenty years old, but it doesn’t seem anyone on the team has been drafted. What happens after that? When he turns twenty-one?
Worse, what happens if he does get drafted and he’s forced to move? Will Dante let me go with my husband, or will he force me to continue working at his shitty bar?
I wipe the bar top clean and put my hair up in a clip, keeping the long tendrils out of my face while I work my shift.
Already, I miss Zeke. I’d rather spend my Friday night playing a round of Candy Land with him instead of making drinks for strangers.
But this is my new life.
There’s no way out.
I serve drinks for the first hour, but it’s relatively quiet. It’s not until after work when the rush of the crowd starts shuffling in and getting a bit rowdy.
The music pulsates, and it seems as though it’s turned up a little more than usual. That, or I’m just incredibly sensitive to the sound this evening. Rubbing my forehead, I grimace when I notice the trash can is overflowing behind the counter.
Sophia was supposed to empty it before her shift ended. I stifle a grumble and grab the bag. Tying it off, I carry it down the hallway toward the back exit and head outside into the chilly autumn air.
The dumpster is in the back and the lights outside are dim. The overhead light is flickering as the bulb struggles to stay lit. Someone needs to replace it.
The bulb flashes out, and I grumble as I make my way in the dark to the bin, toss open the lid and throw the bag into the garbage.
A hand clasps over my mouth before I have time to turn around. I stomp on the assailant’s foot and use my elbow to fight back, attempting to flee and break free from the strong arms gripping my waist.
I hear the tearing of something familiar and my lips are silenced. My scream is muffled by duct tape, and my hands are yanked behind me and zip tied. I’m lifted with ease off the ground by two masked strangers and dragged into a nearby black sedan parked on the side of the building, out of sight.
I kick and flail, trying to get away, knowing that once I go with them, the chance of escape is significantly lower.
They shove a black cloth bag over my head, blinding me from my surroundings as the vehicle door slams shut.
Another few seconds, and the engine kicks to life as we pull away from the bar.
“Are you sure about this?” a male voice asks his companion.
I recognize the male voice. But from where? It only takes a minute, and my stomach drops when I realize who it is.
To Be Continued…