Chapter 19
Nineteen
Ella
I scramble to get out of the car. Joel’s hand shoots out. He grabs my arm so tight, I yelp in pain.
“Not so fast, little one,” he says, his voice still mocking. “We’re going on a trip.”
“The hell we are.” I try to yank my arm back despite the pain of his grip. It’s no use. “Let me out of this car, Joel.”
“Close the door and put on your seatbelt.”
“No fucking way.”
He holds up a gun. The barrel is pointed directly at my face. “Close the fucking door now, Ella, or I will shoot you in the fucking head.”
I close the door.
It’s hard to breathe. All I can do is take frightened, heavy gasps. “Okay, okay. Okay.” I can’t seem to stop saying it. My hands are shaking and the garage beyond the car windows seems darker than usual.
“Get a hold of yourself,” he says in disgust. He wrenches my purse from my grasp. After rummaging through it, he takes my phone and tucks it under his opposite leg.
Breathe in. Out. Slow. I imagine the guys next to me, their presence protective and easy, calming me. I fold my hands together, steadying them as much as possible, and try to focus on my breathing.
Without another glance in my direction, Joel punches the gas, and we’re speeding out of the parking garage. As soon as we reach the street, he rolls down his window and throws my phone out of the car. Through the side mirror, I watch it bounce on the asphalt.
This isn’t going to end well.
“Joel?” I say.
He grunts.
Keeping my voice as quiet and non-confrontational as possible, I ask, “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting the fuck out of jail, free,” he says, sparing me a brief glance. His blue eyes are nothing like his father’s. Kingston’s eyes are warm and kind; Joel’s are cruel and cold. “And I’m taking some insurance with me and getting revenge on my pops, all in one fell swoop.”
Revenge? Shit. My throat goes tight as I imagine what he could mean by that, exactly.
But maybe if I can keep him talking, I can get him to back down, change his mind.
I used to have sex with this guy. Maybe he never considered me his girlfriend like I considered him my boyfriend, but we were intimate.
As disgusting as the thought of it is to me now, it has to count for something, right?
“This is kidnapping, Joel.”
Shrugging, he says, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He means Kristin. “Right,” I say. “But what’s your end-game?”
“Just shut up, okay?”
“I really need to know—”
“Shut! Up!” he yells, spittle flying from his mouth to fleck on the steering wheel.
I flinch back into my seat. “Sorry.”
He grunts again, his eyes on the road ahead.
It’s dark outside, so all I see are headlights and taillights, and the shine of polished cars reflecting all those lights.
On either side of us are stores and apartment buildings.
There are even people on the sidewalk. My fingers twitch next to the window control.
“Don’t fucking think about it,” Joel says. “I will shoot you and drop your body in the desert.”
“Please, Joel.”
“Do not say another word until we’re out of the city.”
Maybe I could throw myself out of the car. Would I get anywhere before he can shoot me?
We’re approaching a stoplight. The light’s green, but it’s some distance away.
He’s going to have to stop. I’ll get out then.
The light turns yellow. The car in front of us slows.
“Goddammit!” Joel shouts, banging his fist on the steering wheel. “You could’ve fucking gone , you fucking idiot !”
Road rage. So attractive. I ease my hand along the side of the door, searching for the release.
Impact explodes across my jaw.
I cry out in surprise, fear, and the sharp pain that is already beginning to throb.
Joel hit me. He fucking hit me.
“You made me do that, you bitch! You reached for the door handle, I saw you.”
“Okay, okay! Okay, I’m sorry.” Agony moves throughout my jaw as I talk. I cup my cheek in my hand. The coolness of my palm eases the burning pain.
Tears well in my eyes. Despite the gun, despite knowing he was at least partially responsible for Kristin’s kidnapping, despite the way he filmed and released a sex tape of us without my consent, despite the way he cheated on me…I don’t know. I guess I never thought he would hit me.
Is he messed up in the head enough to shoot me?
He told me to be quiet until we get out of the city. I’m quiet. All I hear is the pounding of my heart, the purr of the car’s engine, and my own ragged breathing.
My mind is whirling. How did this even happen? Kingston texted, told me to get out. He said the bodyguards were compromised and not to tell them I was leaving.
After what feels like an eternity, the city is behind us.
“I thought it was Kingston texting me,” I say in a tentative, quiet voice. “But it wasn’t—it was you. Did you steal his phone?”
I don’t know how that would even be possible—I’d just been talking to Kingston. But maybe Kingston lost his phone and called me from his office phone instead, and I didn’t notice.
Joel laughs. “I spoofed his phone, you stupid bitch. Didn’t you notice none of your older texts from my dad were on there?”
Frowning, I try to think back to the message app and what it looked like when I read “Kingston’s” text about meeting him in the parking garage. I don’t think there was anything else there, but I also wasn’t taking the time to scroll up and check—I was panicking.
Joel’s right. I feel like a total idiot.
“Honestly, I didn’t think this would be so easy,” he says in a light voice. “My dad gave me this car—identical to his—when he saw how much I liked his. He never was creative with gifts.”
He’s very creative. He took me to Angeli’s because he knows I love pretty underwear.
Joel goes on, “He’s given me plenty of cash over the years, and I’ve set a lot of it aside. He’s given me everything except love.”
The shitty thing is, Kingston does love Joel.
Even though Joel doesn’t deserve it. I can see it in how conflicted Kingston felt about Joel being a part of Kristin’s kidnapping and everything else.
Yeah, no doubt in my mind that Kingston would be the first one marching Joel to the police station if it came down to it, but it would kill a part of him to have to do it.
Joel turns off the freeway and down a frontage road. There are fewer and fewer cars. He turns a few more times. I try to keep track, to remember where we are, but it’s dark and I’m not thinking very clearly. Left, left, right for a long time, left again. I think. I might’ve missed a turn.
He pulls down a gravel drive. The car’s headlights illuminate a mansion that is built to look like a rustic cabin. He brings the car to a stop. I don’t move, but he gets out of the car and comes around.
When he looks away, I grab one of my barrettes and unclip it from my hair.
Joel opens my door.
“Out,” he says, waving the gun at me.
I get out. He grabs my arm and starts dragging me toward the side of the house.
I dig in my heels. “Joel, this is madness. Let me go—I don’t have to go with you, you can just leave the country—”
“Shut up, Ella. Don’t make me fucking hit you again.”
At the side of the house is another car. This one is an older-model sedan, not unlike the car I used to drive. It’s the kind of car that won’t be noticed anywhere. A perfect “getaway” car.
Shit.
I drop my barrette, hoping he won’t notice. If someone is looking for me, they’ll find this little clue that proves yes, I was here at some point.
And Kingston and Sebastian will definitely be looking for me. I have no doubt about that.
“Get in,” Joel says, opening the passenger door for me.
When I hesitate, he shoves me into the car and slams the door.
I barely get my foot out of the way in time.
He uses the butt of his gun to knock the handle off.
Could I still open the door from inside?
I’m afraid to try, but as he rounds the front of the car to come around to the driver’s side, I pull on the handle to see.
It doesn’t budge.
Joel climbs into the car, turns the keys, and pulls out of the driveway. As we go, he says, “I swear, if you make trouble for me, you die.”
“You’re just going to kill me anyway,” I whisper.
“Nah. I’m using you to get the fuck out of this country. Once we’re in Mexico, I’ll get on a plane to somewhere far away. Hey!” His face brightens. “You can come with me. I don’t want to be lonely, after all, and I know your pussy is nice and tight.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you—you’re disgusting.”
“Aw, baby, don’t be like that.”
I bite my tongue. I want to insult him a thousand times over. But angering him isn’t in my best interests—at least not yet.
The world beyond the quiet shell of the car is dark—no other headlights or taillights, no street lamps. We’re out in the middle of freaking nowhere. Even if I could somehow throw myself from the car and escape, where would I run to?
I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this fucked up situation, but whatever I do, I need to plan it out first.
Sebastian
Finally, dinner with Helena, Pat, and the rest of the Church of Fortune crew is over. Pat and her band were going out for after-dinner drinks, but I begged off.
A quick stop at my apartment to give Schrode some kitty scratches behind the ears and makes sure he’s fed, and then Kellan’s driving me over to Kingston’s place. I text Ella to let her know I’m on my way.
Can’t wait to see you, princess. Lots to discuss .
No little dots appear on the screen to tell me she’s writing back. I wonder if Kingston is already home and fucking her, the lucky bastard. Or maybe she didn’t hear her phone, or she fell asleep.
I list off as many random reasons as I can to explain why she’s not answering me, figuring that with every more implausible excuse, I’ll see a response pop up on my phone.
I’ve finally listed, She’s entertaining a small family of aliens who are curious about Earthling customs when I realize she’s just not going to write back.
We’re only ten minutes away from Kingston’s penthouse, but I text him anyway. Couldn’t wait for me, huh ?
Unlike Ella, he responds. What are you talking about?
Ella didn’t reply to my text. I thought you two were already going at it.
I’m on my way back from the office .
Well, that’s too bad. I was hoping to walk in and find a show. She must’ve fallen asleep .
He calls me a minute later, just as Kellan pulls into Kingston’s parking garage.
“She’s not answering her phone,” King says. “I don’t think she fell asleep.”
A detached feeling of unease pulls me out of my car and into the elevator. “I’m on my way up to the penthouse,” I say. “I’ll call you back.”
The elevator carries me up to the top floor. Something feels off as I step into King’s place. It feels empty.
“Ella?”
No response. It’s easy to check the living room and kitchen areas, as it’s a somewhat open concept.
Then I go to the bedroom. She isn’t in there, or in the en-suite bathroom.
Next, I check the other bedrooms and bathrooms, but I already know she won’t be in them.
I don’t know how I know. I move with calm detachment even though my chest is aching with fear.
I go to the balcony next, but I can see through the floor-to-ceiling windows that she isn’t out there. Still, I turn on an extra light just to make sure.
“Ella?” King’s voice calls out.
I turn around to see him stepping out of the elevator. His gaze meets mine. I shake my head.
“Did she leave a note or anything?” he asks.
“Not that I saw.” Immediately, I go to the table, the coffee, table, the kitchen counter, the bedroom nightstand. There are no notes, no tiny pieces of paper with her girlish, loopy handwriting.
I don’t know what to say or do. I don’t even know what to think. I shouldn’t be panicked yet, right?
“No notes,” I say to Kingston.
“I’m calling the Ironwood guards.” He jabs at his phone screen with so much force, I’m surprised it doesn’t crack the glass. A second later, he says, “Where are you? Ella’s not answering her phone.”
His face pales at whatever they say.
“Get up here,” he says. “We need to find her.”
He ends the call and I say, “It’s not like she’s hiding in a fucking closet, King. She must’ve left.”
“There’s security cameras. Soon as the guards get up here, I’ll see if I can get my hands on the footage,” he says.
Kingston
The building managers weren’t allowed to share camera footage without a request from the police station, but once that goes through, a fucking long hour later, we’re watching footage of the parking garage.
The footage plays in reverse until we see a car pull up next to the elevator…a silver Porsche. Exactly like mine. Ella gets out of the car walks backward into the elevator because the footage is still playing in reverse.
“Isn’t that your car, Mr. Tyler?” one of the building managers asks.
“That’s Joel’s car,” I say. “My son’s.”
“He tricked her, didn’t he?” Bash says.
We go all the way back and watch the video as it happened. The car pulls up and waits for several minutes. The elevator opens. Ella steps out, looking fearful. She rushes for the door, yanks it open, and slides inside.
The door remains open for a long moment—I imagine that’s when she realized it wasn’t me behind the wheel.
She wouldn’t have known Joel has the same car as me because the asshole never took her out on any actual dates.
“My fucking son kidnapped her.” Every word feels sharp in my mouth.
He took Ella. Whatever goodwill, whatever spark of love, whatever bit of hope I’d had that he and I could reconcile? It’s fucking gone. For good.