A Captive Situation (Kings of New York)

I woke, tied to a bed, and instant anger boiled in me.

I was about to lose my mind. Kidnapped! I was freaking kidnapped. What the hell? I didn’t come to New York City for this. To be in a freaking Taken storyline.

And I had liked Jake. I’d been attracted to him.

I had legit lost my mind.

Kidnapped. I still couldn’t believe it.

“Ahhhh! Let me out of here! You asshole.” I struggled, but my wrists were tied to the bedposts. I could talk, and my legs were left free, so yay for that. I could do windmills in the air above me, but that was it. I didn’t think he’d climb on top of me so I could . . . There was a thought.

I’d been ready to let loose with another scream, but I quieted, now thinking.noveldrama

Headlights flashed through the windows. Tires moved over gravel as a vehicle approached the cabin.

I had no idea how long I’d been here. He hadn’t said anything to me as we were driving, but I knew we weren’t in the city anymore. We pulled up to some cabin. I got a glimpse when he carried me inside. He asked if I needed to go to the bathroom, and yes. Of course. I’d downed three cups of coffee after the shooting and two before the first one. My bladder was screaming, but he wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom alone, so I couldn’t do anything. When I was done, he tied me to the posts. Again.

He took off after that, and eventually I fell asleep.

Every muscle in my body ached, and I needed to go to the bathroom again.

I looked up, wondering if the universe was listening and could help a jilted girl out.

The headlights turned off, and it wasn’t long before I heard keys outside the window. I strained to hear him enter the house, but couldn’t. The guy was as silent as a cat. That was annoying.

The bedroom door opened, but no lights were turned on. My eyes had adjusted a while ago so I could see him come straight for me, moving lithely, so quiet, like a ghost. He stopped in front of me.

I glared at him, so wishing for the power for murder by vision.

Alas, it wasn’t working.

I couldn’t make out his face, so I couldn’t get a read on what he was thinking, but I was hurting, and before I knew it, a whimper left me.

He let out a small sigh and squatted by the bed, moving a little bit into the moonlight so I could see him. Jesus. There was a burning in his gaze, and his jaw was clenched so tight. Whatever he’d been doing, he hadn’t been happy about it.

He gave me a long contemplative look, his face hard. Raking a hand over his face, he exhaled sharply. “I know you’re not going to believe me, but I didn’t have time to explain and for you to understand. I took you for your safety.”

I snorted, still glaring. “You’re such an asshole.”

He leaned back, but still in the squatting position.

I hated when people could do that. It always looked so cool and so comfortable, and I was not a person who could do that. Angie Papdailier loved doing that in high school. She’d been cheerleader captain, and the sweetest, and all the guys wanted her. So of course she could rest on the back of her heels from a squatting position. Like, way to rub it in how extra lucky you are, and the fact Jake was doing that?

Not cool.

I ramped up my glaring wattage.

His lip twitched, reaching up and resting his hands on the bed, the one I was still tied to.

“There’s a contract out on me.” He was all stonewalled to me, but his jaw clenched again, and his gaze fell to my chest, staring hard at me. I caught movement to the right and saw his hand making a quick fist before smoothing it back out and taking a firm hold of the bed. He pulled on it, standing up, and went over to a chair in the corner.

A contract? A hit? “Why do you have a contract out on you? A contract for what?”

I didn’t like that he sat down, back in the shadows. I liked having him in front of me. I liked being able to see his face, trying to get a read on him.

It gave me one sense of control, just an iota of it, and that’s all I had. I was clinging to it.

His voice went back to monotone, talking to me as if we were discussing our favorite breakfast food. Maybe that was a little exaggeration. There was a terse edge to his tone, but I grunted in frustration because I had no idea how he felt about any of this and since I was the kidnapped one, I needed to know the mindset of my kidnapper.

He was saying, “—there are things about me that you don’t know.”

“No shit, Sherlock. You’re a psychopath.” I seethed. “What kind of a person are you that’d get a contract put on them?”

He ignored that. “It’s for two million, so that means until pictures of my dead body hit the internet and my death’s been verified, they’re not going to stop coming. Two different shooters in the same day? I was worried if I left you at your cousin’s, then whoever was coming at me would take you and try to use you as bait. You’d be collateral.” He paused, briefly, his voice grating. “I was right. A picture was taken of us when we were leaving the station and an hour ago, another one was uploaded to the contract file. It showed us leaving the diner.”

I . . . What?

I had no idea what he was talking about.

“Who the fuck are you? I don’t—none of this makes sense.”

His stark expression was telling me that there had been two shooters. He wasn’t lying about that, no matter how much I didn’t want to believe him.

My heart sank. There was a contract out on me? “Where?”

His chair scraped against the floor as he got up, walking over to me, walking all slow and ominous until he sat on the bed by me. As he did, his face moved into the moonlight, and I could see him again. A part of me sagged in relief. Another part of me froze up because there was nothing on his face. No facial expression. No regret. Nothing.

He was just all-business, all clenched and chiseled jaw.

He leaned down, his elbows on his knees. His hip pressed into my side. “It’s a website. We’ve been trying to get it taken down, but it never works. It pops back up. So now we mostly monitor it. I am so fucking sorry that you got pulled into this.”

God.

He meant it. He wasn’t showing me anything, but his tone was ragged.

That tore through me, for some reason.

I was tied to a bed. Two guys had been killed in front of me, and now there were pictures of me on some website?

My eyes welled up. A tear rolled down my face.

He watched it go, his jaw clenching again, but his shoulders only rose and held before he let out a soft exhale. He tipped his head up, meeting my gaze. “I have to be blunt with you. You can’t leave.”

No . . .

I asked, “Where’s my phone?”

“You can’t call anyone. You can’t have them call you. Once you’ve been identified, there are going to be men searching for you as well. That means tagging your family, intercepting any call they might get from you. Tracing it. Law enforcement can’t help, not in this situation. You walk out that door, and they will kill you. They’ll kill you because they’ll try to use you to get to me, and Sawyer”—he leaned in, his eyes going almost primal—“they’re not going to be successful. You got me? I’d like to tell you that I’m a good guy, but the truth is that I’m not. I sold my soul a long fucking time ago, and while I’m not scared about dying, there’s a few things I’m going to do before I let that happen. So if you want to stay alive, your best bet is doing what I tell you.”

My heart had paused, waiting to hear what he’d said. It fell now, along with letting some fear slither in.

He would let me die to save his own ass.

“The house is on lockdown.” He stood, his voice dropping, back to business. “Every door. Every window. We’ve got seven miles of woods around us so if you run, I’ll hear the minute you try leaving. Trust me, I will hunt you down.”

My mouth went dry as he loomed over me.

“Do you understand me?”

“I understand you’re a selfish prick. I understand that,” I spat at him.

I was seething inside.

Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck everything. “I have stuff to do! Things. Lists. A bucket list that . . .” That I would not be finishing now.

He ignored my glaring and began untying me. “I’m assuming you need the bathroom again.”

“Yes. That’s on the list too,” I snapped at him. As soon as I was free, he scooped me up from the bed. I began squirming to get free. I really really had to go, but Jake only held me tighter and walked me into a bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. He lifted the lid, sat me down, and reached for my jeans.

I began hitting him. “Oh no. No way. I’m not that hard-up for sex.”

Not anymore.

“I’m trying to help you. Your hands were tied in the same position for hours.”

“And who tied them? Fuck you.” I shoved at him, trying to get him away from me, ignoring the feeling of needles coursing through my arms and hands.

He stopped, but lifted his head, his face two inches from me, and he scowled. “You want to piss your pants? Have at it.” He stalked out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as he was gone and as soon as there was a barrier between us, I let it down.

There was a wall that I erected inside of me, around my heart. I’d need to keep everything locked up inside if I was going to get out of this alive because no matter how much I thought my life was over before, it was nothing to this situation.

It was almost laughable. To think I’d been so devastated about the two decades I gave to Beck and my best friend.

Funny. That didn’t have the same paralyzing pain it had a day ago.