Chapter Five
THE FRONT HALLWAY TAKESmy breath away. Hardwood floors, carved paneling, and furniture that’s heavy and antique-looking—definitely not flat-pack-and-assemble from IKEA. A massive staircase curves away from the door, and there’s a literal chandelier hanging from the cathedral ceiling. The decor is impressive, too: an Oriental rug that feels plush even under my boots and framed portraits and paintings that I can see the actual brushstrokes on.
But Will and LJ stride in as casually as walking into a Kwik-Stop at the gas station. Will tosses his keys toward a basket on the right, while LJ hollers out “Tuck? You here?”
“Gimme a second!” calls someone from deep inside the house. I barely want to take another step, afraid I’ll break something, or smudge it with motor oil, and be on the hook to replace some priceless tapestry that’s four hundred years old. To the left is a kind of sitting room, surprisingly modern in its decor, with sleek black couches and abstract art, and to the right is what I can only call a library: deep wood paneling, shelves crammed with leather-bound books, armchairs for lounging in, even a chess set.
I hold my elbow self-consciously, suddenly feeling every inch of grime and sweat on my skin. Even though I’m probably in literal fucking danger right now, I can’t help but feel...broke. Broke and desperate and slack-jawed, like a hillbilly seeing electric lights for the first time.
“I know, right? It’s a lot.”
The voice is mellow and warm, but I whirl around, startled. Another guy, this one clad in sweats and a T-shirt, offers me a smile.
“Uh...” I don’t know how to answer. I swallow hard. “Yeah.”
I size him up as quick as I can, seeking out any signs of immediate threat and finding...surprisingly none. He’s as tall as the others, a bit slimmer, but clearly still in shape, with the burgundy fabric of his tee stretched appealingly tight over his shoulders. His hair falls in honey-brown waves that tousle absentmindedly over his ears, like some kind of permanent bed-head, and a round pair of glasses slips just a bit towards the end of his freckled nose.
“I felt like such a yokel the first time I set foot in here,” he goes on. “Admittedly, I was only a kid, so everything seemed that much bigger, but still. Nothing like seeing real old money up close, eh?” He grins and sticks out a hand. “I’m Tuck. Nice to meet you.”
I’m so stunned by his friendliness that I actually shake his hand. His palm is warm and firm against mine, and I catch a whiff of sandalwood as I draw those few inches closer to him—his aftershave or deodorant.
“Maren,” I say. “You...live here too?”
Tuck nods. “Yep. Pretty sweet, isn’t it? Our own little forest hideaway.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “You hungry?”
Maybe it’s that this guy—Tuck—is so disarming, so unlike Will with his biting wit and LJ with his gruff demeanor, that my barriers crumble.
Or maybe it’s just the fact that I am fucking starving.
“Never been hungrier,” I confess.
Tuck beams and pushes his glasses up his nose. “Great. Brunch is served.”
THAT WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT.
Tuck leads me to a massive, light-filled kitchen full of gleaming appliances, floor-to-ceiling windows, and more breakfast food than I’ve ever seen in one place. On the granite countertop of the center island are piles of bacon, a fluffy mountain of scrambled eggs, glistening bowls of fruit salad, and a stack of waffles that nearly reaches eye level.
A few paces away, at a broad wooden table, the other two guys have already dug in.
“Nice work, Four Eyes.” LJ lifts his fork.
“Yeah, you’ve outdone yourself.” Will nods and toasts with a cup of coffee. “Although I still think those glasses are just for show. Playing up the whole hot nerd thing for the girls.”
“I’ll have you know that I’m very slightly nearsighted,” Tuck says, but not before he glances at me, and I notice a light pink tinge on his cheeks.
“Oh yeah? How many fingers am I holding up?” LJ flips him the bird. Will snort-laughs into his coffee, and Tuck ducks over to give LJ a shove in the shoulder—one that surprisingly almost topples him from the chair. Guess LJ isn’t the only one packing serious strength.
“Don’t mind them,” Will drawls, sipping his coffee. “They’ve always been childish.”
“Speak for yourself,” LJ says, righting himself. “You and your shiny toys. You’re like a kid with a new pack of Hot Wheels.”
“Hey, Hot Wheels rule,” I hear myself say. Will, LJ, and Tuck look at me: Will with amused interest, LJ with disbelief, and Tuck with delight.
“I mean...” I mumble. “They were always my favorite as a kid.” The one year I got a brand new set from the town “Adopt a Poor Kid” toy drive or whatever it was called was probably the highlight of my young life.
“Figures you weren’t a My Little Pony kind of girl,” LJ says. “Princess.”
I want to retort, but my attention keeps getting yanked astray by the smell of syrup and bacon grease. I dart a glance at the spread to my right.
“It’s not just decorative, greasemonkey,” Will comments. “You might as well eat.”
“Seriously. You’ve gotta be starving.” Tuck ducks back to my side and hands me a plate. “Have at it. Coffee? Tea? Bloody Mary?”
“Coffee’s fine,” I say. “As black and as strong as you can make it.”
“Atta girl.” Tuck nods and heads for an impressive chrome coffee maker by the sink.
I hover for a minute, unsure if I am actually about to dig into this mountain of food, and then figure, fuck it. If I’m going to be brutally murdered at some deluxe drug kingpin’s mansion in the middle of the Virginia woods, then I’m going out with a full stomach. I take my plate and stack on six slices of bacon, two of the waffles (which are at least three inches thick) and, at the last minute, a dish of fruit salad. You know, for my health.
“Got an appetite there, huh?” LJ raises an eyebrow at me as I perch on a chair at the end of the table, as far away from the two of them as I can.
“You would too, if you’d spent the night in the woods,” I fire back.
LJ lifts his palms in a gesture of defeat. “Not blaming you.” He looks at Tuck. “Where’s Rob?”
“Where do you think?” Tuck answers, placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of me. It smells dark and strong and ripe with caffeine. I could almost cry. I abandon the bacon I’m about to eat and clutch the mug like it’s an elixir of life—which, in a way, I guess it is.
“Out back,” Will and LJ answer in unison.
Tuck nods, spinning a chair around to sit in it backwards. “Target practice.”
Will rolls his eyes. “So old-school. I don’t get it.”
“It’s a tradition thing,” Tuck says. “You know—Southern gentlemen and their quaint practices, or whatever.”
At the words Southern gentlemen, I feel my hackles raise. I gulp down some more of the coffee to wash the anxiety out of my mouth. It half works. If this Rob character is anything like the so-called “gentlemen” I’ve encountered thus far in my life, then he’s anything but. And target practice? I know fox hunting is a thing around here—hence the club—but something about the explicit acknowledgment that there’s guns on this property makes me shiver.
Focus, Maren. Get something in your stomach. I eye my plate, hesitating one half-second longer as I speed-reason through whether the stuff is poisoned—Will and LJ are already eating, and Tuck just picked another piece of bacon off the table, so odds are not—and dig in.
“Whoa, there,” Tuck says, watching as I stuff waffle into my mouth. “I mean, I know my cooking’s good, but don’t give yourself a stomachache there.”
I chew vigorously and swallow. “One, I’m starving,” I explain. “And two, if I need to fight off kidnappers”—I cast a pointed look at the three of them—“I want to have some fuel in the tank.”
LJ chortles, his dark eyes flashing. “Princess, full stomach or not, there’s no way you could take us.”
I shiver again, even though I sense he’s being more playful than serious.
He’s right, though. Those biceps mean business. He could toss me around like a rag doll—which, under different circumstances, I might actually enjoy.
What the fuck, Maren? My blood sugar must be plunging. I’m not thinking straight. I chomp through another slice of bacon.
“Just take your time, is all I meant,” Tuck says, a bit more gently.
“Not too much time, though.” Will straightens in his seat, shaking his watch to his wrist again. “We’ve gotta take her down to see him. And odds are his nocturnal ass is going to crash in about, oh, thirty minutes.”
Tuck sighs. “There’s no need to rush her, Will. I’ll make Rob a damn red-eye if it comes to that.” He rubs his jaw. “Come to think of it, a red-eye sounds pretty good. Warm you up, Maren?”
“Huh?” My heart skips a beat, like I missed a step going downstairs. Then I realize Tuck is gesturing at my coffee mug. “Oh. Um. Sure. Thanks.” And then, because he is being pretty nice to me, “It’s good coffee.”
Tuck beams. “Thank you. These guys give me grief for perfecting the setup, but they’d suck down gas station mud so long as it had caffeine.”
Now LJ rolls his eyes. “Spare us the foodie shit, T.”
“You mean stop making you coffee? Happy to. Save me the work of caffeinating your giant ass.” Tuck scowls at LJ, but it’s a brotherly kind of scowl, and takes my mug and his back over to the coffee machine.
“Make those to go,” Will says. “I’m taking her down now.”
Down? “Down where?” I say, the food going ashen in my mouth.
“Relax, Princess. Just down to the shooting range,” LJ says.
“And not as a target,” Tuck adds, returning with my coffee in a fresh insulated mug. “We’re not going to kill you, okay?”
“You know, it’s almost less reassuring when you have to insist that you’re not going to kill me,” I mutter. Still, though, my rabbit heart has calmed down, coffee notwithstanding. If this is a kidnapping or ransom, they’re really not playing the part. I’d have thought they’d start making demands by now, or at least busting out the duct tape and rope.
Will stands up, straightening his shirtsleeves and nodding at me. “Let’s go.”
I clutch my coffee, feeling pinned in place. But a last-ditch streak of defiance sparks in me. “Go where? Where are you taking me?”
“I already told you,” he says. “To see Rob. He’s down on the grounds.”
I set my jaw—mostly to keep it from trembling. A belly full of food has given me some of my bravery back. “I’ve already told you. They’re going to be looking for me already. I’m not worth your time for anything like this.”
Will clicks his tongue. “That’s no way to talk about yourself, greasemonkey. Where’s your self-esteem?”
Heat floods the back of my neck. “You know what I mean.”
“I do,” Will agrees. His tone softens. “And I promise you, Rob does too.” He holds out a hand. “Now, will you just come with me?”
I stall just a moment longer, flicking my gaze from Will to LJ to Tuck. What the fuck am I doing here? I wonder, for what feels like the billionth time.
“Fine,” I say. “Take me to Rob.”