by Kali Argent
Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen or heard from Jonas since the dinner. He’d have thought for sure the guy would have come running the moment he’d heard Phoebe was missing. Elena was supposed to have enlisted his help, but she was nowhere to be found, either. Something definitely didn’t add up, and Rayce had the sinking feeling the answer had been staring him in the face all along.
He’d been so fixated on Tucker, so sure the asshole had been the one to vandalize his truck, that he couldn’t see past his own prejudices. Tucker wasn’t the only one who matched the description the hostess at the restaurant had given. Tall, blond, athletic…
“His name is Jonas Freeman,” Rayce said. “He’s staying here at the hotel. Find him.”
“What about the sister?”
“If I’m right, she might be in danger, too. Send someone to check her room, but I have a feeling that when we find Phoebe, we’ll find Elena.”
“Hey, Hawk?” Wren stood behind the counter, her fingers curled around the doorframe of the security office.
Colton lifted his arm to signal Ryder and Tieran to join him. “Looks like she found something.” He jerked his head to the side, indicating Wren. “Go. We’ll find Jonas.”
Rayce thanked him, then turned to walk back behind the counter. “What did you find? Did you see who took her? Was it Jonas?”
Wren’s gaze clouded, and she nodded slowly. “You need to see this.”
~ ~ ~
Phoebe’s pulse pounded in her temples, and it felt like some living, breathing entity was trying to burst its way through her skull.
She’d come awake in the dark with just the moonlight to illuminate a narrow, silvery path through the center of a room she didn’t recognize. Her vision blurred at the edges, and the harder she tried to focus, the more intensely her head pounded.
She couldn’t make out much through the darkness, but from what she could see, the room appeared empty. No furniture, no paintings, not even carpet. The window directly across from her was bare, no blinds or curtains to cover it. Beyond it, she saw only the night, no landmarks or anything else that could tell her where she was or how she’d gotten there.
“Phoebe? Can you hear me? Phoebe, wake up.”
The voice drifted to her from across the room. It sounded muffled, though, like an echo, and she could barely make out the words. Lifting her head, she squinted into the shadowy corner, but gave up when it intensified the pain in her temples.
“Who’s there?” she asked, the words slurring, her voice weak and raspy.
Her mouth was arid, sticky, and her tongue felt too big, making it difficult to speak. Each time she swallowed, her throat burned like she’d been gargling with glass. Something had happened to her, something bad, but she couldn’t remember what.
“Keep your voice down. It’s me. It’s Elena.”
“Elena?” Phoebe stared harder into the dark corner. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know, but we have to get out of here. Are you okay?”
Phoebe struggled to remember, but everything, even her memories, was indistinct and hazy, like looking through a pair of thick, blurred lenses. Trying to lift her hand to her temple, she stopped when she couldn’t move her arm. Her wrists burned where the rope dug into them, holding her arms immobile behind her back. Another rope wrapped around her chest, anchoring her to a hard, straight-back chair, and each of her ankles had been bound to the chair’s legs.
“Where am I?” she called, her voice low, groggy. “How did we get here?”
“I don’t know,” Elena repeated. “I just woke up tied to this chair. Can you move at all?”
Phoebe pulled and twisted against the ropes in vain. “It’s useless. I can’t move at all.”
God, why couldn’t she remember anything? She’d been talking to a group of readers, drinking coffee and signing books. Elena had been there, and so had Jonas. The details were fuzzy, but she remembered suddenly feeling sick, and everyone had theorized that it could be food poising.
She’d been going to the restrooms down the corridor from the café, intending to splash some water on her face before trying to make it back to her room. She’d thought about calling Rayce to come help her, then…nothing.
Fuck, it was so hard to think. Her stomach rolled uncomfortably, twisting itself into knots, and each inhalation burned in her lungs. Her head swam, making her dizzy, which only increased her nausea. She needed to move, to try to free herself, but she could barely feel her limbs. Her body was weightless and heavy, all at the same time, and the world seemed to stand still around her.
“Hold on,” Elena said after several seconds of silence, and she still sounded like she was speaking through a ball of cotton. “I think I can get my hands free.” Soft grunts echoed throughout the empty room, followed by several mumbled curses. “Damn, that hurts like a son of a bitch.”
More grunts and rustling, then a quiet thump, and finally, hurried footsteps against the hard floor. Elena passed through the slender beam of moonlight, and Phoebe gasped when she saw the blood dripping from a cut on her friend’s cheek.
“Shit, El, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just a scratch.” Kneeling behind Phoebe’s chair, she set to work untying her. “We need to get out of here. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
“Him? Did you see him? Do you know who he is?”
It felt like it had taken no time at all before the ropes fell away, but logically, Phoebe knew several minutes at likely passed. Elena appeared at her side, bending to slide an arm around her waist to help her to her feet.
“Come on, we have to hurry. Phoebe, Phoebe?” She tapped lightly at Phoebe’s cheeks. “I know it’s hard, but I need your help. Keep your eyes open, okay? We have to move.”
Phoebe tried to comply, but she could barely hold her head up. Her legs wobbled with each step, making it difficult for her to match Elena’s long strides, and cold sweat beaded across her brow. The exertion made it difficult to breathe, but she kept going, put one foot in front of the other until they’d made it across the room and through the narrow doorway.
No moonlight illuminated the hallway, forcing them to slow their pace. Phoebe stretched her left hand out, searching the darkness until her fingers brushed against the smooth wall. She was pretty sure they were in a house, but it didn’t smell right. It smelled more like sawdust and dirt rather than how a home should smell.
It was quiet. Too quiet. Even in her tranquil neighborhood in the suburbs, there was still plenty of noise—the rumble of a car engine, a barking dog, kids laughing, birds chirping. In this place, she heard nothing expect the thud of their footsteps and her own labored breathing.
“Careful,” Elena mumbled, wrapping Phoebe’s arm around her shoulders to better support her. “The stairs are a little steep.”
Letting Elena lead, Phoebe closed her eyes and fought not to vomit all over her friend. This definitely wasn’t food poisoning. She’d never been drugged before, but she’d done plenty of research on the subject for her books. Besides, it was the only thing that made sense. She just couldn’t figure out how it had happened. From the moment she’d taken possession of it, the cup hadn’t left her sight—except when she’d asked Jonas to watch it while she signed books.
“Here we go. Watch your eyes.”
A click echoed through the darkness, then glaring white light burned her corneas, causing tears to spring to her eyes. Phoebe blinked several times, trying to clear the spots from her vision, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept what she was seeing. Maybe it was the drugs. Maybe she was hallucinating. It was the only logical explanation, because the room she was seeing couldn’t actually exist.
“What do you think?” Elena asked, carefully lowering Phoebe to the foot of a queen-sized bed. “We can change anything you don’t like.”
It was Phoebe’s room…but it wasn’t. Everything had been perfectly replicated, right down to framed paintings that hung on the wall, each depicting a different colored frog
. One held his hands over his ears, another his eyes, and the last, his mouth. She’d fallen in love with them at the art festival last spring, but seeing them now, in this room, she found them creepy rather than adorable.
“Elena, what’s going on? What is this place?” She tried to stand, but her legs gave out, and her head spun, toppling her right back to the mattress.
“It’s your room, of course. I want you to be comfortable.”
“This is crazy.”
“Don’t,” Elena bit out, “call me crazy.” She breathed in deeply, and exhaled with a bright smile. “I didn’t plan for this to happen so fast. I wanted to ease you into the idea, but then you met Rayce.” Her eyes clouded, and her expression became stony. “He was about to ruin everything. What was I supposed to do?”
It was definitely the drugs, because nothing Elena said made any sense to her. “Ease me into what?”
“He just didn’t understand.” Burying her fingers in her hair at the temples, Elena pulled at the locks as she paced the floor in front of the bed. “He didn’t get it.”
Phoebe could barely hold herself upright, but instinct told her to tread carefully. “What didn’t he get?”
“How we feel about each other!” Elena yelled. “He was there, always there in the way. He doesn’t love you like I do.” Stopping, she pulled a gun from the back of her waistband and held it in both hands, staring at it dazedly. “He’ll come for you. He’ll see the security footage from the hotel.” She cursed under her breath. “Oh, well, it couldn’t be helped, but that’s okay. It’s…an opportunity.”
“What the hell is going on? Why are you doing this?”
“He’ll come,” Elena repeated, ignoring Phoebe. “We he does, we can finally get rid of him once and for all.” She looked up at the clock over the dresser. “Not much time now. He’ll be on his way.”
Phoebe’s stomach clenched, and her heart pounded up in her throat. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe she’d fallen asleep with Rayce, and this was all just a nightmare. Eyeing the gun in Elena’s hand, she bit the inside of her cheek and remained quiet, afraid of saying something to upset the woman.
Elena had always been a little clingy, a little too attentive, but Phoebe would have never imagined she was capable of something like this. She’d concocted some epic romance in her head, convinced herself that she and Phoebe were meant for each other, which she’d kept hidden until Rayce had entered the picture. Clearly, she was disturbed, and judging by the pistol in her hand, extremely dangerous.
Please let this be a nightmare.
The circular clock over the dresser said only ten minutes had passed—ten minutes where Elena paced the room, waving her gun around and talking to herself—when Phoebe heard the creak of a door, followed by footsteps above her. She wanted to call out, to scream for someone to save her, but the smile on Elena’s face stopped her. The staircase on the opposite side of the room was dark, narrow, with no route of escape. Anyone who came to her rescue would be walking right into a trap.
“Phoebe?” Rayce’s voice echoed down into the basement, distant but clear.
“Call back to him,” Elena commanded.
“No.” Phoebe put as much force behind the word as she could. “I won’t help you.”
“This is the only way, sweetheart.” Moving closer, she caressed Phoebe’s cheek and brushed her hair back from her face. “Do it.”
Phoebe tried to jerk away, but she was still having a hard time controlling her body. “No.”
“I really didn’t want to have to do this.”
Elena’s fingers fisted in her hair, and she jerked hard to the left, pulling an involuntary scream from Phoebe’s lips. The pain in her scalp didn’t hurt nearly as much as knowing that she’d just signed Rayce’s death warrant.
“Phoebe!”
The footsteps overhead moved swiftly now, following the sound of her scream to the door at the top of the stairs. With slow, deliberate steps, Elena sidestepped across the room, keeping her gun trained straight ahead as she moved to the side of the staircase, just out of sight.
The basement door banged open, the sound abnormally loud in the enclosed space.
“No!” Phoebe yelled. “Rayce don’t come down here.” Her voice lacked the volume her scream had, but she hoped he’d hear her. “It’s a trap. Just go.”
“Phoebe? Oh, thank fuck.” Carefully, one step at a time, Rayce descended the stairs, his own gun drawn, his eyes alert.
“Rayce, stop!”
But it was too late. The crack of a single gunshot exploded in the room, hitting Rayce in the shoulder and propelling him down the remainder of the stairs. Deep crimson spilled onto the carpet where he landed, seeping into the fibers as it spread out in a wide circle.
Phoebe cried out, her heart aching, the pain too immeasurable to bear. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. Not him.
Clearly unhappy with her aim, Elena frowned as she moved closer, lining up for another shot as more footsteps pounded across the floor on the upper story. Help had arrived, but they’d never make it in time.
Ears ringing from the first shot, adrenaline flowing through her veins, Phoebe forced herself up from the mattress and stumbled forward, throwing herself at the crazy bitch who had been her best friend.
Caught off guard, Elena didn’t have time to brace herself for the collision, and upon impact, they both fell to the floor. Driven by a mixture of rage and fear, Phoebe landed a solid punch to Elena’s jaw, disorienting her long enough to grab for the gun clutched in her hand. Of course, she should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.
“Stop it!” Elena screamed. “I did this for us!” Jerking up from the floor, she flipped their positions, rolling on top of Phoebe as they both fought for possession of the handgun.
“You’re fucking crazy!” Phoebe yelled back, bucking and twisting, trying to dislodge her opponent.
Freeing her right leg, she drew it up, slamming her knee into Elena’s elbow at the same time she jerked upward on the butt of the gun. A second shot cut through the air, making her eyes cross and her ears ring. Blood, hot and thick, spilled over her hands, the crimson flowing freely from the hole in Elena’s chest.
Paralyzed by shock, Phoebe could do nothing but watch as Elena shuddered once—eyes wide, lips slightly parted—then fell sideways to the floor where she wheezed one final breath and didn’t move again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The doctors said Rayce had come through surgery with flying colors, but they wanted to keep him for a few days to monitor him. He understood, but that didn’t make sitting in a backless hospital gown, propped up on a hard mattress any easier.
“Stop fidgeting,” Phoebe chastised, hurrying over to the bed to adjust his pillows for the fourth time in ten minutes. “If you don’t stop moving, you’re going to pull your stitches, then you’ll just have to be in here that much longer.”
She’d been flapping around him like a mother hen for two days, and though he loved her, she was driving him crazy. Worse than her constant anxiety was the guilt that darkened her hazel eyes every time she looked at him. They hadn’t talked about what had happened. When he’d tried to bring it up, Phoebe had immediately shut down, and he hadn’t been able to get a word out of her.
If he could spare her, he would, but the fact remained she couldn’t avoid the conversation forever. In fact, Dominic and Wren were on their way up to his room right then to give him a full report on what they’d found while he’d been in the hospital.
“Phoebe, stop.” He caught one of her fluttering hands and brought it to his lips. “Come here, sugar. Sit with me for a little while.” When she hesitated, he poked his bottom lip out and pretended to pout. “Please?”
He’d almost lost her. Every time he thought about it, a fresh wave of pain coursed through him that had nothing to do with his injury.
“Okay,” Phoebe relented, “but only if you promise to tell me if your shoulder starts hurting.”
“Promise.” He just need
ed to hold her, to assure himself that she was safe and well. “When’s the last time you slept?”
“I got a couple of hours this morning after Jonas left.”
Jonas had come by Rayce’s room to offer his apologies. He’d looked so guilt-ridden, Rayce had almost felt sorry for him. Still, even though he didn’t blame the kid for what his sister had done, Jonas was one of the last people he’d wanted to see.
Lowering the railing, Phoebe gingerly climbed onto the mattress and curled up against his side, resting her head on his good shoulder. “Why? Do I look that bad?”
“You look beautiful.”
She could shave her head and sprout and extra eye on her chin, and he’d still think she was the most gorgeous creature on the planet. That didn’t mean he didn’t worry about her, though. Dark circles ringed her bloodshot eyes, and her fair skin appeared ashen and dull. Even her hair lacked its usual luster, falling in limp, stringy curtains around her face.
While Rayce had been in surgery, doctors had given Phoebe a saline drip to help flush the Ketamine from her system. Once she’d been lucid, detectives had arrived to take her statement. She’d told them everything she could remember, but there were big blanks in her memory. For instance, she didn’t know how she’d gotten from the hotel to Elena’s ranch house outside the city, and most likely, that missing time was lost to her forever.
Rayce, however, would never forget watching Phoebe staggering to the bathroom on the security footage. Even in the grainy, black and white video feed, he knew she’d been drugged, and there hadn’t been a damn thing he could do to help her.
She never made it to the women’s restroom.
He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but the proof had been right in front of him. From the edge of the screen, a familiar face had appeared, and dark, cold, consuming rage had filled him as he’d watched Elena lead Phoebe through a side door to disappear into the parking lot. A few minutes later, she’d returned, waltzing right through the front doors of the lobby as if nothing had happened.
Fuck, he’d been so stupid. When Elena had knocked on his door, he’d actually believed that she wanted to mend her relationship with Phoebe. He’d fallen for her tears, her fake concern, and because of it, he’d almost lost the most precious thing in his world.
