Chapter Fourteen
THE NEXT CLEAR THINGI hear is the sound of men’s voices.
Men’s arguing voices.
“That was really stupid of you. Really fucking stupid.”
“Stupid of me? You weren’t even there. You didn’t—”
“I think the stupidest thing was letting her go in the first place. Which one of you idiots signed off on that brilliant plan?”
I squint. Something cold and slightly wet slides down my forehead—an ice pack, I realize. I’m in what I recognize as the basement lounge, the below-grade room that exits out to the pool patio on one side and the game room on the other. Somehow, I made it to the cushy black leather couch, where I’m currently curled up under a chenille blanket.
With an ice pack on my head.
Oh, God. I let the cold piece of plastic slip off of me and onto the floor as I clutch my temples.
I passed out. Fuck. Not a full-on fit, but one of the whatever Dr. Shanahan called them—absence seizures? I’m not aching all over like I’ve been through a boxing match—a telltale sign I was thrashing—but I don’t remember what happened between the middle of that car ride and me being on this couch.
And my head hurts.
The voices fade in and out like a bad radio signal.
“This is why I didn’t want her leaving here.” That’s Rob’s voice, I’m fairly certain. “We can’t control what goes on beyond the bounds of this property, outside of the forest.”
“Yeah, well, you try and stop her from getting those damn auto parts,” gripes another voice. Will’s, I think. “She insisted, said she had to talk to the guy herself or he wouldn’t sell.”
“Come on. You can’t think creatively here? There’s no one in Sherwood County who couldn’t use our help, especially not a guy who owns a mom-and-pop car parts store.”
“You’re the one who does the wheeling and dealing, Rob,” puts in a third voice—Tuck. “We weren’t about to broker a deal on your behalf without permission.”
“That’s not the point. The point is, not only did you put her in danger, but you drew a huge amount of attention to her. That’s another sighting that the sheriff can pin down.” Rob’s voice is rising, almost to the point of yelling. “Do you know what that means for her? Any of you?”
“Oh, so I was just supposed to let those good-for-nothing rednecks grope her like animals?” This voice is low, angry. “Fuck that and fuck you.”
I blink. Context clues, plus the angry, gravelly tone, tell me that that’s LJ. He doesn’t know I’m listening, thinks I’m still passed out. And it sounds like...he genuinely wanted to defend me.
A flutter of something stirs in my chest. Hope, maybe.
But I tamp it down. Of course he doesn’t want anything to happen to me. I’m a meal ticket. A dangling carrot in a trap too complicated for me to understand. I get hurt, the jig is up. Game over. No payday.
The throbbing in my head is down to a dull pulse. Slowly, unsteadily, I get up, but my shoes are gone and my socks are slick against the polished tile, and I slide and lose my balance right back into the couch with an unfortunately loud thud.
“That’s her. She’s awake.”
Footsteps pick up in the room, and I’m determined not to let them come and pull me off a literal fainting couch. I manage to get up a second time and push myself through the doorway into the game room before they can show up. Four pairs of eyes scan over me, looking for any injuries, any hurts, their brows furrowed with anger as much as concern.
“I’m fine,” I say, not that anyone had asked.
“You should be resting, Maren,” says Rob. He in particular looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him, his usual easygoing persona gone under a severe, intense expression.
My stomach flips. “I’m fine,” I insist again. “Where’s my car?”
A flicker of amusement passes over Rob’s face despite his fury. “Back gate,” he answers. “Right, LJ?”
A few paces away, LJ nods. “Couldn’t get the damn thing up the hill at the back,” he says. “But it’s there.”
“So it’s in one piece,” Rob goes on. “More than we can say for you.”
“How’s your head?” asks Tuck. He was probably the one who got the ice pack, I figure. I press a palm to my temple again.
“Not too bad,” I say. “I think it was just a...” I cast around for an explanation that makes sense. “I was stressed out, had too much coffee—”
“And didn’t eat breakfast,” Tuck chides.
This is true. And it’s a very good excuse for passing out.
“Or lunch,” I say, adding a sheepish smile for good measure. “You’re right.”
The air in the room is still taut, impatient.
“What time is it?” I ask, frowning.
“It’s almost 3:30,” Will answers. He’s sunk into an armchair, hunched over, brooding in a way that I’ve never seen him. “You scared us, Maren.”
“I-I’m sorry,” I apologize, stumbling. I scared them, scared Will—that seems almost impossible. Sure, he doesn’t want me hurt, doesn’t want the metaphorical blood on his hands. But this sudden sincerity—it’s enough to make me dizzy all over again. Those clear eyes of his are pained like he can’t even bear to look at me.
And then the truth bursts out of me.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I get these...I have epilepsy. I have seizures sometimes, if I’m stressed out or...or just because, honestly. I didn’t want you to know because I didn’t want to...I don’t know, seem vulnerable, or anything.”
As I say it out loud, I realize how stupid my reasoning was. Seizures or not, I was vulnerable as hell with them. I’m no pushover, but I’m no match for four red-blooded specimens of all-American male.
“I should have killed that fucking guy.” That’s from LJ, lurking in the shadows behind Rob and Tuck. His face looks ashen, yet animated with anger like I’ve never seen, not even directed at me, not even back in the shop.
“Okay, whoa,” I say, blood beating in my cheeks. “Let’s not get carried away. Yeah, it sucks to have your ass grabbed by some creep, but there’s no need to commit murder. It’s not exactly a proportionate response.”
“I don’t fucking care about proportionate,” LJ says. He folds his arms, looks from Will to Tuck to Rob. “That’s the whole problem, isn’t it? None of you have any sense of proportionate. You act like this is just a little change when it’s a big fucking ask. And it just keeps getting bigger.”
“Hey,” I say, stepping forward before World War 3 breaks out. “I didn’t ask for any of this. You guys are the ones keeping me here, remember? And I’m sorry if that’s such a huge inconvenience to you, LJ. But again, I didn’t ask you to get all aggro.”
LJ’s jaw tenses, but he says nothing to me. Instead, he looks at Rob again.
“Okay, fine. You want to fucking criticize me for what I did, like you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing in that scenario. So, yeah, fuck this. I’m done.”
LJ spins around and storms out of the game room, stomping so hard that the billiard balls on the pool table clack a little.
I swallow, my mouth feeling dry. Today has gone completely off the rails. And all I wanted to do was fix some fucking cars. At least those make sense. They’re machines, with rules. Not...messy.
Not this.
I scrub at my eyes and try to make sense of things.
“Don’t feel bad, Maren,” Tuck says, after a few beats of silence. “This isn’t your fault. You’re right—you didn’t ask for any of this to happen.”
“That’s the understatement of the year,” I say. The dull throbbing behind my eyes is back, but it’s not the kind of intense threat to take over my consciousness that I experienced in the car. As weird as it sounds, I feel safe here. Safe with all of them. And safer still knowing that they’re this insistent on protecting me, even if it’s just because I’m useful to them, even for a little bit.
“Will and Tuck shouldn’t have let you leave,” Rob says. “That was a bad idea. I would never have let you go out.”
“You did take her shopping the other day, though,” Will points out.
“Yes. And look what happened.” Rob chuckles. “Got the law hot on our tails. Then again”—he throws a piercing glance at me—“lying low doesn’t seem to be in your skill set, pretty lady.”
“Well, forgive me,” I fire back. “It’s my first time being kidnapped. I don’t know all the rules.”
Rob laughs. “Kidnapped?”
“Well, yeah.” I fold my arms. “The whole not being able to leave this property, let alone the forest, without one of you thing, the insistence on protecting me so that you can extract whatever ransom you want? Sounds like kidnapping. Maybe I haven’t read the exact dictionary definition in a while, but I’m pretty sure this qualifies.”
I don’t get it. It’s pretty fucking obvious that’s what they’re doing, right? I’d be one stupid kidnappee if I hadn’t pieced it all together by now.
Also, for some reason, my outburst seems to amuse them.
“Were we in the kidnapping business?” Will frowns. “Didn’t know that.”
Finally lightening a little, Tuck says, “Me neither. What gives you that impression?”
What? “I don’t know,” I shuffle from foot to foot, feeling suddenly very stupid and silly, like I’ve just revealed some hidden fantasy from my imagination.
Except...no, they definitely were holding me captive. Weren’t they?
“You really think we need money?” Rob says, grinning broadly now and gesturing around him—at the pool table, the dart boards, the artwork, the record player, the liquor cabinet. “Or is it just that this isn’t to your usual standards? You think we could stand to upgrade a few things.”
I ignore that last part. “I don’t know,” I retort. “Maybe you do. Maybe this is how you make your billions.”
“Kidnapping and extortion?” Rob beams, like he’s enjoying this. “The margins on that are terrible. Barely turn a profit. That’d hardly work to sustain our lifestyle.”
“Well, it’s more of an explanation than I’ve gotten yet!” I cry, throwing my hands in the air. “Did I miss something? Because based on the past few days, kidnapping’s the only thing that makes even a tiny, itsy-bitsy piece of sense.”
“Really?” Tuck says. He sounds almost hurt.
“Well...yeah,” I say. “The mysterious source of all this money, and...god, I don’t know, why else would you be keeping me here? Giving me stuff, making me food, taking such good care of me like I’m an action figure you need to keep in mint condition? That’s an awful lot for a girl with nothing to offer in return.”
“You are fixing the cars,” Tuck points out.
I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine.” That was my idea, so I can’t deny that. “But still. Beyond that. There’s literally nothing special about me besides my value as a...hostage.”
The three of them look at each other.
Will speaks first. “Is it so hard to believe that we care about your wellbeing, Maren?”
I chew my lip, considering.
Yes, I want to scream. Yes, it is! Because you’re strangers, and I’m a stranger, and how could you so immediately decide that you want to just lavish gifts on me and let me share your food and wine, live in this house, just be here and exist without an ulterior motive?
But I don’t scream any of that. I don’t scream at all.
Instead, I think of my father. Of everything he taught me, of the few precious scraps of wisdom I got from him before he was ripped out of my life.
“Nothing comes for free in this world,” I say softly. “Nothing.”
The look on their faces is enough to break my heart. It’s like I’ve personally insulted each of their mothers and spat in their faces to boot.
“You really think that?” Rob says.
“I...”
Of course I do.
It makes sense.
But...do I? I’ve heard it so many times, thought it so many times that I’ve never even paused to question whether it’s true. Whether I feel it’s true.
“Come on, Maren,” Tuck says. “It’s not all dog-eat-dog out there. Take it from me.”
At that, Will snorts a laugh that he quickly stifles. Instead, he smiles gently at me. “You’ve been burned before. That’s hard to get through—take that from me.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“There are still some generous people left in this world, Maren.” Rob says. “All we want to do is prove that to you.” He steps forward, tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “But you have to let us.”
I don’t know what to say to that, but I don’t really get a chance.
“This is all so damn intense,” Will gripes, getting to his feet. “I think I’m getting an ulcer.”
“You’re always getting an ulcer,” Tuck says.
Rob drops his hand from me and gives them a sharp nod.
“You know what? You’re right. We need to blow off some steam.” His eyes dart back to me. “You included, pretty lady.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets awkwardly. “Sure, I guess.” I lift an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”
Rob grins. “Have you ever shot a crossbow before?”
“STEADY THERE. EASYdoes it.”
Rob smirks as he grips my arms, posing me into place. “This isn’t your granddaddy’s old bow and arrow, okay? This bad boy’s got some serious firepower.” He tips his head up a bit and calls down the archery range, to where Tuck and Will are returning with more drinks. “Boys? I’d duck if I were you.”
“Ha ha ha,” I say drily.
“I’m serious—well, partially.” Rob drops away from me. “A bow like this isn’t just a weapon. It’s a piece of art, a tool of precision. It’s not for cowards who’d rather spray you with bullets. It’s elegant.” He flashes another smirk. “And in the hands of someone like me, it’s downright deadly.”
I roll my eyes. My forearms are aching a bit with the weight of the...weapon? Machine? I don’t even know what to call it. “Can we get on with it, please? I’m about to pull a muscle here.”
The thing is damn heavy, and I bet I look absolutely idiotic wielding it. Plus, the target seems a lot farther away than I remember from the first time I laid eyes on it. That, plus the gathering twilight dusk, make it just a tiny bit difficult to see.
Except, by the same token, it’s also kind of beautiful out. The air feels warm but not muggy, the sky a bright, almost lavender, blue against the crowns of the pine trees. For once, the forest doesn’t feel foreboding and creepy. It just feels...pretty. Calm. Safe.
Though that may have something to do with the hulking piece of weaponry in my hands.
“Fair enough.” Rob grins and takes a pull of his beer, gesturing at the bow. “Those parts there are your limbs—basically the muscles of this beast. They store up all the energy that’ll come loose when you pull the trigger. Then there’s the string”—he points—“which propels the bolt. And the trigger, where the magic happens. Now just—”
“Look through the scope and let ‘er rip,” I recite. “And never point it at anyone.”
“Exactly,” he says, then raises his voice. “Unless they’re dumbasses and refuse to get out of the way!”
“We’re getting, we’re getting,” Tuck yells back from the other side of the range, and the two of them hustle to a safe distance outside the marked lanes.
“All you, pretty lady.” Rob gives me a salute. “Fire in the hole!”
I hoist the crossbow as best I can, trying to remember his instructions—but I don’t have to. With deft, sure fingers, he taps me where I’m meant to squeeze, where I need to keep my shoulder level, and where to look, and that’s all I need.
I pull back, and—
Zing.
The arrow rockets forward and buries itself in the target.
Not the center, mind you. Not even technically in the target portion, but more like the outermost corner.
Still, it’s stuck fast. A direct hit.
“Damn,” mutters Will behind us.
“Hell yeah!” Rob hoots with delight. “She did it, boys.”
“Knew she could.” Tuck is beaming.
“Holy shit,” I mutter. “I actually did. I hit the...thing.” I press my hand to my forehead. I feel stupid and giddy, like a kid who’s just nailed a high score in skee ball or something. But it’s genuinely exciting. “Sorry. Words. I’m just honestly shocked.”
“Trust me, so are we,” Will drawls, but the half-smile on his face is more playful than mocking.
“Speak for yourself,” Rob says. He squints one eye at me and points. “I knew she had the look of the huntress about her.”
“Totally,” Tuck says. “She’s got a good eye. Hey—cheers.” He lifts his bottle, and Will and Rob follow suit.
I set the crossbow on the ground, realize I have nothing to toast with, and, on a total impulse, grab Will’s bottle and take a huge swig.
Rob’s eyes go wide. Tuck sputters with laughter on his own beer. And I grin triumphantly, darting just out of Will’s grasp as he lunges for me.
“What in the—okay, very funny, greasemonkey. Give it back.”
“Oh, you want this?” I dangle the bottle, tilt my head. Will’s mouth firms into a hard line, one that barely resists the smile that’s threatening it.
Then I stick out my tongue and take another swig. “Catch me first.”
Maybe it’s the power of firing a giant crossbow into a target. Maybe it’s residual adrenaline from the showdown at Jimmy’s. Hell, maybe it’s the one sip of lager just now. But for some reason, I feel playful. Easy. Lighthearted.
I jump back just in the nick of time as Will grabs again.
“Dammit,” he curses, his eyes flashing with mirth.
“Little vixen.” Rob smiles. “She’s light on her feet.”
“Goddamn right,” I say, and dart behind Tuck for cover. He plays along, puffing out his chest like he’s hiding me from view.
“Stay back!” he commands, in a faux-imperious voice. “I shall protect thee, milady.”
Eventually, we devolve into flopping on the grass, drinking the rest of the beers, and squinting to see each other as the sun disappears. Tuck lures us back to the house with the promise of barbecue, and that leads to another round of drinks and a feast of pulled pork and smoked sausage and homemade cornbread so good you’d swear someone’s grandma baked it instead of a tousle-headed, tanned, adorable nerd. Rob ends up regaling us with a story of the time he and Will got trapped on the rooftop of some swanky hotel in Louisville, with Will correcting his every detail.
“And so I’m trying to jimmy the lock open with my credit card—”
“My credit card,” Will amends, pointing at Rob with his bottle.
Rob chuckles. “Please.” He turns to me. “Maren, trust me, it was mine. I needed a solid metal card, not some rinky-dink plastic.”
“I believe it,” I say, and make a nyah-nyah face at Will when he protests.
“Anyway,” Tuck says, keeping the peace. “I haven’t heard this one. So you’re jimmying the lock—”
“Right,” Rob says. “We’re God knows how many juleps deep, and I’m crouching trying to unstick this thing with my Amex, when—”
“When the door opens and the bar hostess sees us,” Will finishes. “Looked at us like we were absolutely insane, too.”
“I saved the situation,” Rob insists.
“What, you mean by handing her the card and saying ‘yes, another round, please’?” Will snorts. “I’m sure she suspected nothing. Didn’t find you weird at all.”
Rob chuckles. “Oh, she didn’t, don’t worry. Smoothed things out with her just fine, in case you forgot.”
Will’s eyes go shaded. Tuck coughs an awkward cough. I shuffle around in my seat. It’s the first time any of them has alluded to having any kind of...romantic entanglement. If you can call what sounds like a one-night-stand with a bartender romantic, anyway.
A niggling feeling of discontent stirs in my chest, but I squash it down.
Why would that bother me?
I futz with my bottle of beer, scraping at the edge of the label with my fingernail. Seriously, Maren, get a grip. Rob, Will, Tuck—hell, even LJ—they’re all red-blooded American boys. They’re good-looking and single and loaded. Of course they’ve pulled girls just like that, with basically a snap of their fingers. Why wouldn’t they have?
Of course, my yawn reflex chooses that exact moment to kick in.
“See?” Will says, gesturing at me. “You’re boring her.”
I shake my head. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just—”
And I yawn again.
“She’s probably exhausted,” Tuck says. “Big day.”
At that, I have to nod. “I’ll say.”
“Sure was.” Rob stretches, his T-shirt riding up his stomach a little, revealing a hint of dark hair above his waistband I pretend not to notice. “Will and me can clean up here. Tuck, why don’t you get this pretty lady to bed?”
Tuck’s face goes lava-red. “I...”
Will bursts out laughing. Rob rolls his eyes.
“As in show her to her room,” he amends. “Remember the rules.”
My head has made its way to rest on my arms on the table, to the point where I only half-hear that last part. “Hmm?”
“Nothing,” Will says. “Tuck’ll take you up.”
I nod. “‘Kay.”
I shuffle up and follow Tuck to the stairs and the hallway near my room. When we reach my door, I turn to take him in—this sweet, adorable guy who seems just a little bit flustered to be escorting me to my sleeping quarters. He’s like a golden retriever...in the body of an underwear model.
I can’t resist. I swoop in and peck him on the cheek.
As predicted, Tuck’s eyes go wide. His lips part just a little in shock, and I internally relish how bashful he looks.
“Thanks,” I say. “Appreciate the escort home.”
“I...of course.” Tuck swallows, smiles. “Night, Maren. Sleep well.”
As I settle onto the pillow, I realize that’s the first time in ages anyone has actually wished me good night.