Chapter 4
KIT
The motel key card felt alien in my palm, a piece of plastic handed to me by a stranger.
I’d met a lot of those today. First the man at the airport with a boarding pass under a name that wasn’t mine, then the driver of the sleek black Audi who’d dropped me here, on the outskirts of a city I’d never even heard of—Pleasant Beach, California—before passing me the key.
This was a horror movie, and I was the idiot protagonist ignoring every single warning sign.
I should’ve gone home. I should’ve called Dad and demanded to know why he’d lied.
Instead, I’d gotten in the car. Now I was stranded with only a few sets of clothes, the cash and credit card in my wallet, and one question echoing in my head.
What now?
The motel’s exterior was surprisingly pleasant, with a distinct beachy vibe.
The long building resembled a seashore hut, each room painted a vibrant fluorescent color—pink, green, or blue.
The scent of the ocean filled my nostrils, and I inhaled deeply, savoring the salty air.
The last time I’d been to a beach was when I was about five or six, when Dad took Sky and me to Miami for a family trip.
Mom was too engrossed in her modeling career to join us, but it hadn’t mattered. Dad had made it fun for both of us.
I smiled at the memory, but the happiness quickly faded as I remembered why I was here—Dad was a criminal. I stared at the clean white door of the motel room, finally convincing myself to use the card reader and enter.
There was nothing suspicious inside. As far as motel rooms went, it was average. It featured a queen-sized bed covered in a palm tree–themed blanket, a wide TV on the opposite wall, a closet, and another door leading to the bathroom.
I frowned, grappling with the weight of betrayal.
Dad had deceived me, and I burned with anger.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I stared at it.
The stranger at the New Gothenburg airport had insisted I turn it off to evade Dad’s tracking, but my heart ached with the urge to contact Sky and Mom, to ask if they knew.
I suspected Mom wouldn’t care, even if she did.
Her only concern was always having money to shop.
I dropped onto my back, the bed groaning under my weight.
My gaze traced the patterns on the grooved ceiling as my thoughts spiraled.
What do I do? Just wait? I’d fled New Gothenburg on the word of a stranger, someone who’d admitted they once considered abducting me.
The anger that had fueled my escape was starting to curdle into cold, hard fear.
I closed my eyes, the day’s events finally catching up. The flight had been just over six hours, and California was three hours behind my internal clock. While it was one in the morning back home, it was only ten here. Still, I could sleep.
I dragged myself farther onto the bed and closed my eyes again.
It was warm outside, a humid heat that wasn’t too bad—I’d felt worse.
I could’ve turned on the air conditioning, but I was too tired.
Instead, after hours of tossing and turning and staring at the shadows dancing across the walls, I finally fell asleep.
When I woke, the sun was high in the sky. It took a few moments to locate the clock on the nightstand.
10:00 a.m
Damn it. I’d slept for twelve hours. Groaning, I dragged myself off the bed, wobbling slightly as I rubbed my face.
When I opened my eyes again, my surroundings finally registered.
A motel room. I’d flown all the way to Pleasant Beach from New Gothenburg because a stranger had told me to do it.
Jeez, I really was stupid. I’d watched enough Netflix specials to guess how this would end.
I blinked, my gaze focusing on a paper bag on the floor near the door. It hadn’t been there when I’d fallen asleep. Swallowing, I walked toward it slowly, a range of worst-case scenarios flooding my mind. What was it? A weapon? A threat? A bloody warning from my father’s enemies?
My stomach roiled, and nausea rose in my throat as I finally reached the bag. My breath came out in rough gasps as I knelt and carefully parted the handles to look inside.
No severed head. That was a good start. All I could see was something wrapped in tissue paper, but it wasn’t soaked in blood like a human body part would be.
I grabbed the soft package, pulled it out, and unwrapped it.
When I got paper open, I sighed in relief.
Clothes. They weren’t anything amazing—a couple of pairs of jeans, shirts, and even underwear, which was nice because I didn’t bring many.
How did they get in the room? I frowned. Someone had come in while I’d slept. I jumped to my feet and ripped open the door, gazing into the empty parking lot. No one was out there. Of course they weren’t. Who knew how long it had been since they’d dropped off the package?
I slammed the door shut again and cursed under my breath. I rushed to my phone and switched it on. This had been a bad idea. I didn’t know who these people were, and they wanted some kind of revenge on my dad. Even if he had killed people, I was his son. His weakness.
My hands shook as my phone finally powered up, flashing a bright welcome screen.
There were twenty missed calls from Dad, and my heart lurched.
I licked my dry lips, thumb hovering over Dad’s name.
All I had to do was call him and ask him to come get me.
It wasn’t difficult, so why couldn’t I do it?
A hard knock on the door made me fumble my phone, and it fell onto the bed.
I stared at it for a long moment before my gaze slid to the door.
Goose bumps prickled over my arms, and I rubbed them as I slowly walked across the room.
If this was my anonymous friend, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to meet them.
This could easily turn into a life-or-death situation, and Dad had no idea where I was.
I stopped right in front of the door and peered through the peephole, but I only got blackness in return.
I jumped backward. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck!” Rubbing my face, I fought back tears.
Fury mixed in with the fear. I didn’t know if I wanted to fight my way out of this situation or accept it, because I was the idiot who’d flown across the damned country.
Another rough knock made me wince, and finally, I steeled my nerves and straightened my spine as I opened the door, ready for a struggle. I gasped when I came face to face with War.
“What are you—”
War shoved past me into the room and shut the door loudly. He grasped my upper arm and dragged me farther inside, and even though I knew he was safe—Do I, though?—I still wriggled against his hold.
“Let me go!”
His grip was shockingly tight. I’d always seen War as a man of immense control, his strength a coiled thing held in careful reserve.
This felt different—raw and unrestrained.
More surprising, though, was the way my cock twitched at the rough treatment.
It was a completely foreign reaction, a jolt of harsh, unwanted pleasure that made no sense.
Why was something so violent affecting me this way? He would surely leave bruises.
War tossed me toward the bed, and my ass landed on the edge, sending me onto my back. I sat up hurriedly, but he was instantly there, slapping a hand over my mouth. I struggled, but he pressed a finger to his lips, shushing me.
I froze, swallowing nervously as footsteps echoed outside. A knock on the door made me go rigid.
“Kit, are you in there?” I didn’t recognize the voice, but ever since I’d started receiving the text messages, all I’d met were strangers. “I’m here for our mutual friend. The one who sent you here.”
War stared at me, his brown eyes flickering dangerously. He shushed me again, then removed his hand from my mouth and reached for the Glock in his belt holster.
“Kit, you gotta let us know you’re in there.” The stranger’s tone hardened. “Our friend wants to meet you.”
War bared his teeth as he sidled up against the wall behind the door. For such a large man, his footsteps were silent, nothing more than a ghost’s. He nodded at me, and I understood what he wanted without a word.
Sucking in a breath, I said, “I’m here. Come in.”
I wasn’t sure they could enter, as they shouldn’t have a key card.
But a stranger had brought me clothes earlier, suggesting someone had a way in.
Sure enough, the card reader beeped, and the door opened.
A middle-aged man with a violent sneer and scars around his mouth stepped into the room.
He had a belt holster like War’s, with a handgun resting in it.
At the sight of him, my danger senses immediately tingled, and I stood, sliding along the bed to back away.
“Kit. Come on.” He reached for his gun. Another man, who looked much like him, entered the room, already clutching a handgun.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
The man with the scars smirked. “To take you to our friend.”
My back hit the closet and my hands shot up. “Okay, okay, look, we don’t have to do this,” I stammered, my voice cracking. “Whatever your friend wants, just tell them I’ll cooperate. There’s no need for guns.”
“No.” The scarred man raised his gun, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
The room fell into chaos and I ducked for safety.
Shouts of pain echoed alongside gunshots.
I covered my head, air exhaling heavily through my nose.
I hummed a song Dad used to sing to me when I was terrified as a kid.
He’d always been the one who scared off the big, bad monsters. Now he was that boogeyman.
Silence fell.
“Kit, you’re safe,” War said.
Taking a shuddery breath, I rose on wobbly knees and glanced around.