3. Jade #2
Footsteps on the stairs.
I freeze, heart hammering.
The footsteps stop outside my bedroom door. Pause. Then continue down the hallway.
To the bathroom door.
Three soft knocks. “You awake in there?” A man’s voice. Not the deep, gravelly one from last night. This one is smoother, lighter. “I’m coming in. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
I step back from the window as the door opens.
The man from last night stands in the doorway.
The one who was on the motorcycle flanking us.
Shoulder-length silver-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, hazel eyes that look almost kind in the harsh bathroom light.
He’s changed into dry clothes since last night—jeans and a gray henley that fits him well.
He’s attractive in that dangerous, don’t-trust-this-smile kind of way.
He holds up both hands, showing me he’s unarmed. “Hey. Brought you some water. Thought you might be thirsty.”
I stare at him.
“I’m Shadow,” he says, like we’re being introduced at a party instead of a kidnapping. “I know that’s a weird name but it’s what everyone calls me. You can too.”
“I don’t want to call you anything. I want to go home.”
“Yeah, I figured.” He steps into the bathroom, moving slowly, keeping his hands visible. Sets a plastic water bottle on the counter. It’s sealed, unopened. “Look, I’m going to cut the zip tie, okay? But you need to not try anything. The others are downstairs and they’re not as patient as I am.”
“What I want is to leave.”
“Not happening right now.” He pulls a pocketknife from his jeans, flips it open. The blade catches the light. “Hands.”
I hesitate. Every instinct screams not to trust him. But my wrists are on fire and I need my hands free if I’m going to have any chance of escaping later.
I hold out my bound hands.
Shadow slides the blade carefully between my wrists, away from skin, and cuts through the plastic. The zip tie falls to the floor and relief floods through my arms as blood flow returns to normal.
I rub my wrists, feeling the angry red marks the plastic left behind. They’re going to bruise. Add them to the collection.
“Thanks,” I mutter, hating that I have to be grateful.
“Bathroom’s right here, obviously.” Shadow gestures around like he’s giving a hotel tour. “There’s a first aid kit under the sink if you need it. Bedroom’s yours for now. Don’t try anything stupid.”
“Like what?”
“Jumping out windows. Fighting. Screaming. Running.” He lists them casually. “Basically anything that ends with you hurt or us having to restrain you again.”
“So just be a good little hostage.”
“That would make everyone’s life easier, yeah.”
I want to slap him. Want to claw that reasonable, almost-apologetic expression off his face. But he’s bigger than me and probably knows a hundred ways to hurt me efficiently.
I need to be smart. Patient. Wait for an opening.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“Cabin in the mountains. About two hours outside the city.”
“Whose cabin?”
“Ours. We use it for various purposes.”
“That’s vague and terrifying.”
Shadow has the grace to look uncomfortable. “Look, I know this is messed up. You’re scared. You want to go home. I get it. But staying here is the safest option right now.”
“Safe from what?”
“From the people who were shooting at us last night. From the Feds.” He stops himself, like he’s said too much.
“From who else?”
“It’s complicated.”
I laugh. It comes out bitter. “Everyone keeps saying that. So what now? You just keep me prisoner until I promise not to tell anyone what I saw?”
“Something like that.”
“And if I refuse?”
Shadow looks at me for a long moment. His hazel eyes are surprisingly kind for a kidnapper. Or maybe that’s part of the act. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. For now, get cleaned up if you want. There’s food downstairs when you’re hungry. Try to rest.”
“I want a phone.”
“Can’t do that.”
“I need to make a call. People will be worried?—”
“I’m sorry, but no.”
Frustration burns in my chest. “Please. Just one call. Just to let someone know I’m okay.”
I almost say “my sister.” Almost mention Linda. But I catch myself. The less they know about my life, the less leverage they have.
Shadow considers me carefully. “I’ll talk to the others. Maybe we can work something out. But not right now.” He turns to leave.
“Wait.”
He pauses in the doorway.
“Who are you people? Really?”
His shoulders tense. He doesn’t turn around. “We’re just trying to survive, same as you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got right now.”
He walks out, pulling the door shut behind him. His footsteps retreat down the hallway, then down the stairs.
I stand there, processing. Then I move.
Bathroom window first. I step back up onto the toilet and test the crank again. It gives slightly more than before. If I keep working it, I might be able to get it open.
But not now. Not with them awake and moving around downstairs.
I climb down and move to the bathroom door, opening it a crack. The hallway is empty. I pad quietly back into the bedroom and locate the heating vent I noticed earlier. It’s near the floor by the dresser. I kneel down, press my ear close.
The voices are clearer now. Not crystal clear, but clear enough.
“—can’t just keep her here forever?—”
“What other choice do we have? Leave her at the gas station to get shot?”
“Reaper’s going to lose his shit when he finds out?—”
“Let him. I’m not killing an innocent woman.”
A pause. Then a different voice, darker, quieter. “Ruthless Saints saw her too.”
My blood runs cold.
Ruthless Saints. Tyler’s club.
“They’ll be looking for her,” the voice continues.
“Doesn’t matter,” the first voice says. The silver-haired man, probably. The one who grabbed me. “She’s under our protection now.”