Chapter 2
Aiden
Bringing my hand over my face, I try to shield the sun from my eyes on this crisp morning as I exhale and contemplate my life decision.
The sun is just peeking through the gray clouds and wrapping me in a fleeting warmth.
I’m sitting outside The Crimson Cup, a small coffee shop on the corner of Main Street, taking a sip of my white chocolate peppermint mocha.
I know, it sounds like a total girlie drink, but when the barista said it was like a warm Christmas hug, I couldn’t resist. I get enough black coffee at the hospital to last a lifetime, so when I finally escape for a cup, I let myself indulge in whatever the season’s hyped-up treat happens to be.
This part of town is nice, now that it’s morning and I can see Main Street better.
I walked Main Street last night to do some reconnaissance of the area, trying to figure out the best place to snatch her.
Storefronts are decorated with wreaths and garlands, and the soft hum of holiday music floats through the air.
It has a sort of Hallmark charm, making it calm, cozy, and inviting.
The scent of fresh palms lingers in the air, a breath of calm I needed from the busy, bustling city life.
Between long hours at the hospital, weekends volunteering, residency applications, and taking care of my new puppy, Jake, I am exhausted.
All I want is a nice, relaxing weekend, which begs the question of why I agreed to this kidnapping ploy.
Outside the coffee shop, a couple walks hand in hand into the boutique, and children giggle as they dodge around people hustling down the sidewalk.
This is the perfect day to execute this kidnapping; the town’s annual Christmas in the Falls prep is in full swing, and with the crowd, I can easily get to her without anyone noticing.
Sipping my coffee, I savor the sweetness of white chocolate pairing perfectly with the peppermint note—the barista was right, this is like Christmas in a cup. I scan up and down the streets out of habit, my eyes darting between the shops and crowd when I spot her prancing toward the bookstore.
She looks exactly the way Eli described, dressed in the stereotypical book girl clothing.
She has on dark green tights, aka God’s gift to men, an oversized tee that boldly declares “I’m Booked (By the Mafia Don)” and hangs off one shoulder, and a cream tote with a knife logo and the slogan “Ride It” that bounces against her hip.
The second my gaze lands on her, something in me goes still.
Like the air between us thickens. My pulse stutters, then hammers hard enough to feel it in my throat.
She radiates warmth and sunshine; I can almost feel it reaching me across the street.
An air of carefree surrounds her, instantly drawing me into her orbit.
She’s chatting away on her phone, looking effortlessly beautiful, like she rolled out of bed without a care in the world.
A messy bun is perched on her head, with strands of chestnut hair slipping free and catching the breeze.
I imagine what they’d feel like between my fingers, probably soft and silky.
Even from here, her big brown eyes draw me in.
Her light olive skin looks impossibly soft—touchable.
I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s captivating.
Then she laughs, the sound bright, unguarded, and burrowing under my skin.
I drag in a slow, cool breath, the scent of roasted coffee and autumn leaves doing nothing to settle the tight pull in my chest. I have no business looking at her like this, because she’s not mine.
Glancing around, I take in the flow of people walking by.
My time in the service taught me to always be aware of my surroundings.
On the other hand, this girl has zero self-awareness, so lost in her phone call that she nearly walks straight into a lamppost. A kind older woman reaches out, tapping her arm just in time to save her from the collision.
For a ridiculous second, a surge of protectiveness washes over me. It makes no sense, but the thought of anyone hurting her makes my jaw ache with anger. Which is insane, considering I’m about to be the creep who’s about to snatch her in broad daylight.
I watch as she ends her call and walks closer to the bookstore entrance.
I know my window to get her without anyone noticing is closing.
It’s now or never. I tug the neck gaiter up my face, just high enough to cover my nose.
People have seen weirder things lately, but I’m still banking on no one questioning a six-four, built-like-an-ox guy in a skeleton neck gaiter walking down Main Street.
I know, the skeleton isn’t very conspicuous, but it was what I found in the back of my closet.
With precision and purpose, I cross the street and make my way to the alley nestled between the bookstore and a vacant store.
I make my movement quick, smooth, and decisive, like executing a flawless covert operation with my men.
One arm around her waist, the other hand covering her mouth, just in case she screams. Her body stiffens beneath me, but there’s no fight.
I drag her back into the shadows of the alley, my heart pounding so hard I swear the people sitting outside the coffee shop can hear.
I wrap my legs around her, pinning her to my chest. With my free hand, I yank the potato sack from my back pocket and slip it over her head just as I hear her whisper breathlessly, “Oh my god. Is this…a kidnapping?”