CHAPTER 16
“Fuck!” I yell as I throw my whiskey glass across the room.
It shatters across the wall, and I drop my head between my shoulders and look down at my desk. Briar’s dad has done well not letting too much slip about her location. I’ve had my men looking constantly, and we just can’t find her. There is someone keeping an eye on each possible location. I’ve gotten increasingly more irritable, not that I had much patience to begin with. My men are giving me a wide breadth and don’t talk to me unless they have to.
I’m itching to shed some blood, and I borderline don’t care whose it is right now. I’d prefer it not to be one of mine, but if they don’t get me some damn answers, then I can’t make any promises.
Vincent walks into the office and clears his throat.
“Unless you want to die,” I say. “I suggest you have some good news. If you don’t, turn around and fucking run.” I flex my fists as I try to take some deep breaths. I’ve had maybe six hours of sleep in the last six days. I’ve eaten enough to keep myself running, and I’ve drunk enough whiskey each day to keep the feelings from hurting so much.
“I have good news,” he says.
I whip my head up and stare at him dead in the eyes. He’s not bullshitting me, not that he would anyway.
“Well? On with it.”
“We know where she is. We’re figuring out the logistics now.”
I was patient enough apparently, waiting for someone else to fuck up and lead my men to where she is being held. I didn’t want to ambush the the wrong location and fuck the entire plan, but I should have gone with my gut.
“Well go!”
We have her, and she’s been at her childhood home this entire time. Now to figure out how the fuck to get in and get her safe.
I hope she’s still holding on.
Briar
I’m losing hope. It’s been six days, and I thought Ezra would have been here by now. Every day I try to escape by making a run for it, but the stupid fucking collar continues to zap me. The skin on my neck is raw, aggravated, and tender. At this point it’s refusing to even try to heal. I’ve been trying to remember to adjust the prongs so it doesn’t sit in one spot for too long. No matter where I move it though, it keeps falling back to that first spot. The only pro to being trapped in my room is the access to my everyday items. I have my shower supplied with my favorite shampoo and conditioner. I have razors, fluffy towels, and a toothbrush. I didn’t keep much in my room besides necessities since I had the rest of the house as my oyster, or whatever that saying is. I haven’t had a legit conversation with someone, since my dad was laughing in my face holding a remote that causes pain.
My original plan should have been to kill my father, and then I could have dealt with Ezra. Ezra is fine, though. I mean, he gives good orgasms. And he’s pretty good to look at with all the muscles and tattoos. He can read my body like a picture book and makes sure I’m pleased when he actually lets me come. I miss him.