by Emily Bowie
“Does your friend still have that room available for rent?” I ask, knowing I can’t go back home.
“He does. I thought you didn’t want it?”
“I had a change of heart,” I retort, raising my eyebrow, my lips pursed.
“I’ll get in touch with him then.” He looks quizzingly at me before cautiously saying, “This isn’t a celebration ‘come get me’ is it?”
I shake my head. “I need to get out from under that roof. I have enough money for two months.”
“You know I’d be happy to help you if you need money.” This isn’t the first time Noah’s offered to help me, but it doesn’t seem right to take it. If I can’t take Kiptyn’s, I won’t be taking his either.
“Stop comparing me with him.”
I open my mouth to say I wasn’t, but he already knows. “Why do you hate him?”
I never thought of this before. It’s not like they know each other… but what if they do? Just like Dad.
“Have you seen the man? He’s a walking thug.”
“Have you talked to him before?”
He scoffs. “I don’t associate with people like him.”
I have to believe him. Noah won’t talk to anyone who he feels is below him. He’s stuck up like that. It’s part of his upbringing.
“Have you seen my dad talk to him?” It physically hurts to call him that when I know it’s not true.
“Your dad is the mayor of Nashville. He can’t associate with criminals.”
I once thought that too. I have a feeling Rich isn’t as black and white as everyone paints him.
Sitting back, I let out a sigh while my fingers run through my long hair. “I need a drink.”
“I figured. Good thing for you that’s one of my specialties.”
Closing my eyes, I try to rein in all my emotions. I hate that all my thoughts stay on Kiptyn. What the hell has he gotten himself into? I figured he didn’t do everything by the books. I also realized that was why he was so protective of me; he knows how the other side lives. I’m not denying I’ve lived a sheltered life, but I have also had my share of experiences.
It all makes me wonder, who really is Kiptyn McGrath? And do I know him like I thought I did? It makes me question everything about our relationship. Was our initial meeting set up? Was I a job to him? Did he use me for something? It makes my head hurt, thinking about it all. I need some liquor stat, to help me forget. Tomorrow, I can deal with the repercussions.
*
Music blares, blocking out all of my problems. It’s just what I need. I signal for another shot from the bartender as soon as I catch his eye. Nodding, he free pours me a flavored vodka shot while giving me a wink. No one questions my ID that says I’m of age. I honestly don’t think they care, as long as I have the card to cover their ass. The thought is suffocating as I start to think about everything I want to do with my life. I hate that I seem to be on track for being a trust fund kid. All I would have to do is work for my dad, marry someone who my parents like, and, on paper, I’d have a perfect life.
What they don’t know is that I have started to take online college courses. With a fancy piece of paper, it’ll be easier to support myself, in case the signing doesn’t work out. I promised myself I would move from here, allowing my dream of becoming a singer to take a backseat. I would get a career and focus on that. My dad may be able to control who hires me in Nashville, but he can’t do that all over the country. Then there is everything I just heard. Fuck me. Picking up the shot, I try to make myself stop thinking.
It goes down smooth but threatens to come up with its acidic aftertaste. A hiccup jerks my head back, and my hand goes to the counter to steady myself.
Without speaking, I grab hold of Noah and drag him to the dance floor with me. He’s always a good partner in crime, always game for anything. He grips onto my hips as we dance close together, our bodies bumping into each other from my unsteady feet.
Knowing Noah has me, I close my eyes, letting the music take me over. The alcohol is well on its way to numbing everything I feel. My feet stay planted as my body sways; I might even fall if Noah doesn’t hold me.
My body tenses, and I realize he must have followed us, because I feel he’s here in the crowd right now. Opening my eyes, I look behind me only to see a blur of strangers’ faces, but he’s lurking somewhere around. Spinning, I exit Noah’s hold. Two of Noah’s bodyguards step in front of me, with their backs to me, and I know instantly Kiptyn is behind them.
Noah pins himself behind me, dancing unaware. I’m frozen, waiting for Kiptyn’s next move. I want him to put up a fight for me all while I want to push him away. My life has revolved around Kiptyn since I was sixteen years old, and I don’t know how to shut down all these feelings. I need another shot; I will drown my thoughts before the night is over.
Signaling to Noah, I indicate another drink. He never once tells me no. Kiptyn would have never let me have more than two. Walking by, I try to sneak a look, only to be met by a wall of Noah’s people.
CHAPTER 32
My forehead feels like it’s throbbing, and my mouth feels like I slept with a cotton ball in it. Sitting up, I try to open my eyes, but all I can think about is how my stomach is twisting itself into knots. Looking around me, I’m in Noah’s penthouse, in his silk sheets. Only the half of the bed where I slept looks rumpled, while the other half is untouched. Years of sleeping in a single bed at boarding school has me used to using the smallest possible amount of any bed.
Looking down, I’m still in my shirt, but the smooth silk tickles my legs. Lifting up the covers, I check my clothing. Panties, check. Shirt, check. Looking beyond the bed, my bra is half hanging on the one chair in the corner, while my pants lay by the bed in a heap.
My head throbs more as I begin to piece together the night’s events. Shots, dancing, Kiptyn, more shots, and then my mind goes blank. A black hole is left until now. I have no idea how I got here, what we did after the shots.
“I figured you might be feeling the effects from last night.” Noah’s voice is way too loud. Peering over to him, he looks perfectly put together with no signs of a hangover.
“Hi, Kellie,” a woman’s voice says, coming from behind him. “How about I fix that headache of yours?” She smiles at me, a large bag hanging off her arm as she wheels a metal thing into the room.
Pulling out a clear bag, she begins to place it onto the metal stand, looking similar to what hospitals use.
“How do you plan to do that?” My voice is groggy, and even to my own ears I sound like shit. Worst hangover of my life.
“I have some anti-inflammatory in here.” She points to the bag. “And it’ll help with the dehydration too.” She picks up my hand, not even bothering to ask for my permission.
Noah must start to see my alarm when his voice cuts in, “I do this all the time. Joan here has been on my speed dial for years. She’s great. And in an hour, you won’t feel like a truck hit you.”
Looking back at my arm, an IV is hooked into my skin and a small plastic tube is attached to me from the bag hanging on the metal stand. “Just lie back down and in thirty minutes you’ll be done.”
I nod, willing to do anything to make my head stop hurting. My stomach twists again, trying to reject the alcohol in my system.
I don’t bother thanking her, not wanting to hear my scratchy voice and too tired to care. Closing my eyes, I drift back to sleep. I don’t wake up for another few hours; the only sign I wasn’t having a dream is a cotton ball and tape on my arm. Just as promised, my headache is gone.
I’m nowhere close to a hundred percent, but I’m sturdy enough to put on my clothes. I need coffee before I can even begin to think about my next move. Leaving Noah’s bedroom, I look into the spare room to see the bed perfectly made. The only thing indicating Noah was in here last night is his clothes nicely folded on top of the bed.
A note is taped to his fridge for me.
Went into the office for an hour. When I get back, we�
�ll look at that place for you. Noah xoxo
Needing fresh air, I step outside. The sun is warm on my skin. I lift my face to the sky, welcoming it. It’s not hot out, where sweat instantly dews on your skin. I’m comfortable in my jeans and a tee. I think I would have to go back in and hide if it were hot. My stomach keeps reminding me of all of the drinks I had.
Closing my eyes, I will my stomach to settle down. At this point, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to keep coffee down. I hear a vehicle stop and a door shut. It doesn’t sound like Noah’s car; maybe I should text him to bring me a coffee.
The sun disappears as I decide to go get it myself. My body startles when a large hand covers my mouth. I’m held in place in front of Noah’s house with a sweet-smelling cloth. My heart pounds, and I feel like I’m going to be sick as I struggle to free myself.
I fight until my limbs feel heavy. No one speaks. I can feel my body moving as I become paralyzed but still able to hear everything. My view goes black, a mask is placed over my eyes, and I’m left fighting with my senses to keep working. The feeling of fibers being tied around my legs scratches at my skin, and then I’m no longer standing upright. I’m tossed over someone’s shoulder and placed hard on the floor. My body is shoved back, hitting a wall, and I feel like I’m in a vehicle that is moving.
I try to memorize how many times we turn right or left, but it feels like we’re going in a complete circle at times. My mind becomes foggy as I grow disoriented. I can still feel my body but it’s almost like I’m not in it.
I don’t even have my cell phone, not wanting Kiptyn to watch my movements or my dad trying to spy on me. I never left Noah a note telling him I was going for coffee. No one knows where I am, and worse, no one knows I’m missing.
I start to hyperventilate, realizing I’ve just been kidnapped. “What do you want?” I mumble, hoping someone will answer me. I’m met with silence. I can feel the presence of more than one person. I’m guessing there are three men and me in a van maybe.
“I have money.” Each word becomes more sluggish as I fight to stay awake. People want money, not that I personally have any. But my parents do. They would pay a ransom to keep me safe. But even in my head, I don’t feel confident about that. Learning I’m not their biological daughter has me second-guessing everything.
Kiptyn would pay. Well, he would say he would then kick their ass. Kip doesn’t bend to anyone. I’m screwed. My life flashes before my eyes.
The last thing I remember before darkness takes over is the bump and sway of a vehicle. My dreams are restless and full of nightmares.
When I wake, I’m no longer tied up but in a king-sized bed that has four pillars. Standing up, I sway, my head throbbing as I go right to the door. The handle stays firmly in place, keeping me locked in. My heart races in the same rhythm as my temples, and I try not to panic. I look around for anything sharp I could use as a weapon.
Nothing. Seeing a window, I go to it to see wide-open spaces all around. I look to be about three stories up in this huge mansion. It almost feels like the tower where Rapunzel was kept all those years.
But I have no one coming to save me. No one knows where I am. Sheer curtains hang, and I immediately look for something to pull the rod down. I could use that for a weapon.
Frantically, I keep looking in the room for anything I could use as a stool. Then I spot a small one in the adjoining bathroom. Picking it up, I move it under the window. I’m still too short. My five-foot two height is definitely not helping matters.
Maybe there’s a razor. Going back into the bathroom, I look for anything. No razor, but I notice all of my brands of shampoo, conditioner, body wash, hairspray, and right down to the toothpaste I like are all sitting out for me.
What the heck?
Picking up the stool, I throw it at the window, needing to escape in any way possible.
“It’s bulletproof. I doubt a stool will do any damage.” His deep voice comes through with an amused twist to his words. Slowly, I pivot. I must be going crazy. Standing in front of the closed door is Kiptyn, his arms crossed over his chest.
CHAPTER 33
Her bee-stung-like lips purse together. Her once light and bright eyes are dark like the storm brewing around us. I watch as she takes a few deep breaths, trying to control her anger at me.
I lean my large torso against the wall, keeping my stance wide with my arms crossed over my chest, looking every bit as intimidating as I should be to everyone but her. My fingers want to reach out to touch her, tell her everything will be okay, but I can’t. I promised myself I would never lie to her, but I hoped I could keep her in the dark for this reason right here. I hate seeing the anger, disappointment, and the unsureness of us in her eyes. The way she leans away from me guts me.
“You calm enough to talk civilly?”
Perhaps they were the wrong words to choose. Her eyes go wide. She lurches forward, grabbing a wooden stool before throwing it at my head. We both watch it fly through the air and land at my feet. Her chest is heaving, and I’ve stayed in place, never taking my eyes off her.
“Are you done?” I didn’t learn from the first sentence. Her hands thread through her hair, pulling at its ends as she looks around for anything else to toss my way.
“You didn’t have to kidnap me for us to talk!” she yells. I can’t help the tug up of my lips. She’s breathtaking, even as furious as she is. But she is so wrong. I was hired to kidnap her. I’m not delusional. If I didn’t, someone less forgiving would have done it instead. As I’ve always told her, she doesn’t need to live in my nightmares, so I go another angle.
“I disagree. I tried to talk to you last night and keep you safe. I was met by a wall of humans, who I chose to let stay breathing, because of you. I stayed on watch while you were drinking your liver away. I was the one who made sure no one tried to hurt you. I had to watch you sleep in his bed.” My tone is hard but stays even. My heart beats rapidly as I think about her choosing him over me. Over us talking it through, allowing me to explain. “He didn’t protect you. You’re part of the game to him.”
Noah has two sides to him; she sees the side he chooses.
“Is that the same one you’re playing? Is he beating you at your own game?”
Standing upright, I take two calculated steps forward. “You’re not in my game.”
“Bullshit! Did he pay you to be my friend, to spy on me?” Her vulnerability seeps through her question.
“When I met you, I had no idea who your father or family was.”
“But you knew when you fucked me?”
My heart pounds in my chest, hurting for her. “It was never like that.” How could she not see everything I do is for her, because I love her.
“You promised you’d never lie to me, Kiptyn. Don’t start now.”
Stepping toward her, we stand toe-to-toe. She doesn’t back down, her head lifting to meet my stare.
“The reason why I never came to see you before you left after your eighteenth birthday was because Noah kicked my ass as Rich watched with a happy grin on his face. I couldn’t see out either of my eyes for two weeks. I just found out Rich was posing as your father. Noah is his little puppet who will do anything he says.”
“I hate you and Rich both right now.” She turns, going to look back out the window. Of course, she would never be mad at her perfect Noah. It’s fucking bullshit. He’s the worst one.
My hand can’t help itself, reaching for her.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” she says with her back to me and so much venom it physically hurts.
“If Noah was here, you’d let him console you, right?”
Turning, I leave her before I say something I regret. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day to talk.
*
“Has she left the room?” I ask Russ, coming back from gathering evidence against Kellie’s father. I’m still not a hundred percent sure what I plan on doing with it. I’ll see how far he goes against me, to see what route I plan to take.
Going back up to her wing, I come to her door. I don’t bother knocking and walk right in.
“They tell me you’re not eating,” I announce. She needs her strength in case something goes wrong. Little does she know that I’m keeping her safe until I can get to the Guarantor myself. In less than a week, he should no longer be a threat to her.
“Kip, don’t you think this is a little extreme?” She walks toward me, her hand running up my arm when she gets close enough. I decide to play along to see what she’s truly after. She has this purr to her voice, and she thinks I’m stupid enough to fall for it.
“When I left, I never locked your door. You are free to roam the house, Kellie.” My hand slips behind her back, willing to play whatever she wants. “I think you’re the one confused as to what’s happening here.”
Her body leans into me. “There was no need to toss me into a van.” Her lashes bat, looking at me.
“If I agree with you, can we kiss and make up?” I wiggle my eyebrows, really liking the idea of messing up that bed of hers.
She huffs, pulling herself back. “You never had to buy me. I’ve been yours all along.” She walks away from me again, turning her back.
“I was only solidifying my position,” I grit out, my patience with her little tantrum on its last thread.
“What was the plan, you buy me from my father, buy me a contract, and we would live happily ever after?”
“That’s the Cliff’s Notes version of it.” I bite the inside of my bottom lip, controlling what I say. She’s already made up her mind. I’ll let her think whatever she wants until she’s back to my old Kellie. The one who is willing to let me explain.
