by Heather Long
Maybe I could offer them money to let me go without talking to my family. They’d said they hadn’t called anyone, and I vaguely recalled Vaughn assuring me no one knew where I was. That had been important in the dark, head screaming and not able to focus.
Right now, though? It worried me.
The room had finally stabilized, so I headed for the door. Whether I had just a shirt on or not, I didn’t want to chance waking up my guard by looking for clothes. Every step was like sending a knife through my skull. My ankle wasn’t much better, but it held if I balanced more of my weight on my uninjured leg.
I gripped the knob, but it didn’t turn. Frowning, I tried it again. Was I locked in here? I smoothed my fingers over the knob, looking for a lock of some kind to release, but nothing. Then I just pulled it if the knob wouldn’t turn, but the door didn’t budge.
Frustration swelled through me as I yanked it harder. Not that it changed the result. The scrabble of panic clawed its way up my spine again, and I swallowed back a sound as I yanked it again.
“That’s not a real door.”
Fuck.
The scream I’d been holding in burst out of me, and I twisted to slam my back against the door. My blond guard stood a couple of feet away, one hand raking through his disheveled hair.
He jerked at my scream, and for a moment, a slash of a smile penetrated the shadows hiding his face from me. He half-twisted so the light hit him. “It’s not a real door,” he repeated. “The bathroom is over here.” He motioned to the other wall where a door stood ajar.
Still fighting the breathlessness, I stared at him.
“You okay?” He cocked his head to the side. “You don’t look steady.”
“You scared the shit out of me.”
When he raked his hand through his hair this time, I glanced away from the motion, only that was a mistake. I focused on the ripple of muscle along his chest and arm. The light playing over the muscle seemed to emphasize not only his physique, but also gave the paint flecks a bit of a glittery appearance.
Frankly, his body was fine, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t seen good bodies before.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, giving me something of a sheepish look. “But you were going to hurt yourself and you looked scared.”
I scowled. Pushing off of the door, I straightened and ignored the thundering in my head and the pulse of pain in my ankle. “I’m not.” I didn’t care what I said earlier.
“Okay.” Just like that. “You want the bathroom?” He cocked his head and nodded toward the open door. “Need a hand?”
“I can manage.” The words came out on a rasp. What I wouldn’t give for a little spit. That said, to get to the bathroom, I had to pass by him, and he squinted at me like I was some kind of puzzle.
“Okay,” he said, repeating the earlier word, yet neither of us moved. With a sigh, he rubbed that hand over his face. “Are you going to go?”
“Are you going to move?” I bit the words off one at a time. His hand dropped from his face, and he pressed it against his chest. A hint of mockery touched his smile as he took a step to the side and then extended his arm as though please, go ahead.
That would put him at my back.
But if I kept making a big deal about this, it was going to let him know I really was afraid. I couldn’t afford fear. I’d have licked my lips, but the dry mouth made that almost an impossibility. We both stood there for another long minute, and I had a feeling he wasn’t going to budge until I did.
Fine.
Fuck it. It wasn’t like I could get away at the moment. I just had to conserve my energy if I had to fight or to at least get a little stronger. Trying to act like it didn’t matter, I forced myself to walk without a limp. I swore he moved a little closer as I passed him because I had tried to leave distance between us, but there was no missing the heat radiating off of him.
Not slowing, I half stumbled at the bathroom door and wanted to swear. I didn’t fall though. No, the hand on my arm and the other on my lower back steadied me.
“Okay?” That word again, only this time, he asked it and there was a hint of laughter in the way his lips twitched and his eyes creased. They were deep blue-green, like the ocean. Or maybe that was just the lamp and I needed to stop worrying about what these guys looked like.
Sure, describing my kidnappers sounded like a fine idea.
“Yeah,” I said and tugged my arm. To my immense relief, he let me go, and then I was through the door and had it closed. Sinking back against the door, I didn’t give a damn that the bathroom was pitch dark. All I cared about was that there was a door between me and him.
I could have my freak-out here in the dark, where no one, not even me, could see me fall apart. A roaring in my ears blotted out all sound, and I kept my eyes closed whether the light was on or not. My heart beat so frantically at my ribs, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it left fresh bruises and cracks for me.
How long I just stood there, I didn’t know. Then he knocked on the door, and I leapt away from it.
“You okay in there, little one?”
The trembling in my limbs threatened to drop me on my ass, so I felt around until I located the toilet seat and perched on it. The cold on my bare ass helped get my mind unstuck. “I’m fine,” I called. “Just—I need a minute.”
“Take your time,” he told me. “But I’ll be right here.”
Right there? Right outside the door?
I tilted my head back, I had to think. I was having a hell of a time with the headache though. Since I actually had to pee, I stood and then moved to the wall to flick on the light switch.
The brightness cut into my vision like a knife, and I squinted my eyes closed as those new spikes began to burrow their way into my brain. Teary, I sniffed and squinted until I could locate the toilet again. The bathroom was pretty plain, all white tiles, and it looked clean. There was a shower curtain on the tub. A toilet. A vanity. The only items in the bathroom besides the fixtures was some toilet paper.
There wasn’t even soap or a towel.
It took me no time to finish my business. And it wasn’t until I started to pee that I realized how badly I needed to go. I rinsed my hands because there was no soap and then shook them off.
I still had to squint in the light but at least the screws being drilled into my brain had slowed down. I stared at the closed door.
On the other side was one of my kidnappers. Or whatever they were. They weren’t attempting to hide their faces and they had taken me to a doctor, so maybe they were well-meaning kidnappers?
I would have slapped myself if I didn’t already hurt. There was no such thing as a “well-meaning kidnapper.” They wanted something. Something to do with me or my too wealthy parents.
But the fact they let me see their faces? And I even knew their names? They weren’t letting me go. I could identify them.
Pressing my forehead against the wood of the door, I fought back another wave of tears before I straightened and opened the door.
As promised, the blond stood just a couple of feet from the door. The light from the bathroom gave me a better look at him. The tattoos were Celtic knot work and a series of little birds along his chest like they were scattering. They were all tiny though, so I had no idea which birds they were.
“Better?”
Well that was an improvement over okay.
Maybe.
Up close, I couldn’t ignore the way he smelled either. Cedar and sandalwood, like the theatres with their big wooden stages, with hints of a citrus scent like polish. Weird, but I kind of liked it. There was something a little harsher under it. Paint, maybe? It wasn’t bad, but it made it hard to focus.
My brain was so messed up.
“Is there more ice?”
“Yeah, I can get you some,” he offered. “But there’s water too.”
I frowned, and when the room swayed, it took me a minute to realize it wasn’t the room, it was me.
“Back in bed.�
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“I don’t want to,” I argued. “I just—I need to go.”
“Yes, you need to lie down before you fall down. Get in the bed, okay? I’m trying to give you space since you’re a fretful little magpie, but you’re killing me with this.”
I was killing him?
I glared at him and glanced around for the other door, since the one I’d been at wasn’t a real door. Who left a door in a wall like that? The other door wasn’t far from where he’d been sitting. The whole room seemed oddly laid out, but I started for it, and tall, blond, and irritating got in my way.
“The bed’s over there,” he told me.
“I know where it is. I’m leaving.”
He sighed, and when I tried to side-step him, he blocked me again. Aggravated, I slammed my hands against his chest to shove him out of the way and regretted it instantly.
Pain ripped up my arm, and I stumbled. Once again, he kept me from hitting the floor as he picked me up. The pressure of his arm against my back actually fucking hurt, and I couldn’t suck in a deep breath.
“You’re a fucking brat,” he told me as he set me in the bed gently, despite the growl in his words. I half expected him to just drop me.
“Fuck you,” I snapped back up at him. “I don’t even know who you are, so why the hell would I listen to you?”
What little emotion had been on his face vanished behind a blank mask.
“Because I’m one of the guys helping you,” he told me in a flat tone as he loomed over me. “You’re hurt. Doc’s been in and out of here a few times. One of us has been with you since you got here. Stop being a spoiled princess.”
Spoiled princess.
Asshole.
Curling up to a sitting position, I ignored the pull of my muscles and slapped him before he could jerk back. At least this time, I remembered to use my uninjured arm.
When he lifted a hand, I scooted backward and did my best to ignore my screaming wrist as I tried to scramble out of reach. Everything about him went still, and he touched his fingers to his face. My pulse jump-started, hammering away, and I swore I could feel it pounding a path into my brain.
He stared at me for a long moment, then dropped his hand. “I’m Rome,” he said.
“What?”
“My name,” he said in that inflectionless voice. “My name is Rome.”
I licked at my lips, desperate for even a little moisture. His eyes hardened, and he turned away. I sagged, blowing out a breath. I knew better than to hit, it always invited retaliation, but I wasn’t a fucking princess.
I’d never been a damn princess.
Instead of leaving the room though, he went over to the chair, and there was a rattle of plastic before he lifted a bottle of water. He had the cap twisted off before he handed it to me, and he didn’t come any closer than arm’s reach.
A part of me wanted to refuse the water, but I needed it and I needed every resource I could on my side until I could get out of here. His fingers didn’t touch mine as he passed the bottle over. I drained it in four swift gulps.
All Rome did was raise his brows, and then he went and got another bottle of water.
I choked a little on this one, coughing as it went into my windpipe, but I didn’t let it slow me down. The water felt great in my mouth and on my throat. The whole time, Rome stared at me, his expression still blank and his eyes hard points of color.
“Are you hungry?” he asked finally, and I started to shake my head, then thought better of it.
It already hurt enough. “No.”
“Okay.”
Still, he stood there another long moment before he moved back to the chair and picked up his notebook or whatever it was. It looked like a pad of paper. He stretched his legs out and placed his feet on the end of the bed.
Pencil in hand, he focused on the pad in his lap and started writing something.
“Did it help?” he asked after a long silence. I was still sitting up against the headboard, exhaustion weighing down my muscles.
“The water? Yes.” Then, because they’d been ingrained in me since before I could talk, I added, “Thank you.”
He snorted softly, and I glanced over to find him shaking his head, almost a flicker of a smile on his face as he continued scratching his pencil against the paper. “I meant telling you my name.”
Oh.
I eased down a little. Maybe if I pretended to go to sleep, he would, and then I could go for the real door—over there. Near him.
The light from the bathroom kept the room brighter, but that didn’t seem to kill my eyes as much.
“Well?” Rome asked again as I finally laid my head back on the pillows and managed to drag the blankets back up over me. “Did it help?”
“I don’t know,” I told him honestly, and then I closed my eyes and tried to turn away from him. It hurt to twist about, but I didn’t want to look at him and I didn’t want him looking at me. Still, no matter how long I lay there, the pencil scratches didn’t stop and I finally closed my eyes for real.
One little nap.
One little nap, and I’d get out of here.
Chapter 7
Emersyn
The next time I opened my eyes, Kestrel sat in the chair Rome had occupied. Relief threaded through me, at least until it hit me that even if I’d trusted him, they’d still kidnapped me. He’d still kidnapped me. I had shifted in my sleep, and I faced toward him instead of away. He was also staring at me, so there was no disguising the fact I had awoken.
“Hi,” I croaked out and then grimaced. How did my voice sound even worse than it had in the middle of the night?
Pushing out of the chair, he was at my side in an instant and had the water cup with the bendy straw at my lips. I really shouldn’t trust any of them. But they’d all helped me in some way, and my throat ached and my mouth was so dry. I sucked in a few drops, and the minute the cool water hit my tongue, I sucked in some more.
Before I knew it, I’d finished the whole cup, and I let out a sigh as he tugged it away. A frown tightened his brows, and his blue-green eyes seemed darker somehow. More green than blue. But he turned away as I tried to sit up.
Oh man, if I’d thought I hurt when I woke up the night before, I really hurt now.
“Let me help you,” he said, but he didn’t just reach out and grab me. That was something. Still, I shook my head. I’d managed on my own for a long time. All this sleeping and lying around had caused me to stiffen way too much. Bruises would stiffen worse if I didn’t get some movement in.
One upside—shaking my head only made the room sway a little. I didn’t want to puke either.
Score a point for me.
I crunched my way up to sitting, even if my abs protested the movement and my ribs let me know in no uncertain terms they were on strike. Yeah well, we’d dealt with worse. We could do this. I blew out a breath as Kestrel glared at me. Undeterred, I stared right back up at him. Without a word, he whipped around and stalked into the bathroom.
Ignoring the way his jeans shaped his ass was probably a good thing. In all the days he’d driven me, he’d always been nicely dressed in a dark suit. Always put together. Now…now he looked rougher somehow. The only light in the room came from that lamp by the chair. At the sound of the water turning on, I did a quick inventory.
My wrist was still splinted and wrapped. So was my ankle. I was still wearing that same T-shirt. Still no panties. Joyful. I grimaced. Even after the water, my mouth tasted like ass, and my hair was all kinds of ratty feeling and I stunk.
Stunk like I’d been sweating in rehearsal for hours then gone to sleep like that.
Or maybe like I’d been performing?
The water cut off, and I pulled the covers back over my legs before Kestrel emerged from the bathroom. He offered me the cup, but when I tried to take it, he just held it steady while I took another drink.
The whole time, the weight of his stare rested on me, and I finally let go of the cup and licked my lips. Yeah, the wat
er was great. What the hell died in my mouth?
Instead of moving away, Kestrel set the cup down on the nightstand. Crouching, he put a hand on the bed next to my leg, but he didn’t touch me. “How are you?”
I frowned, then had to stop because it just added to the dull ache in my head. “How the hell do you think I am?”
“I don’t know,” he said slowly, then exhaled a heavy breath. “If I knew I wouldn’t have asked. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the last three days.”
Three days?
My stomach bottomed out. “The show…”
“You don’t have to worry about that right now.”
“Right now? That’s my life.” What the hell did he mean right now? The dull thud of the headache seemed to be gaining some force.
“It was a job with shitty people who you let treat you shitty.” The judgment in his voice dried up my next words before I said them aloud. “Fuck.” He pushed upward and stalked away from the bed. I wasn’t sure who that last comment was for—me or him.
He raked a hand through his hair and then turned around to glare at me. Again.
“What?” I demanded. “What did I do?”
“You’re here.”
“That wasn’t my choice. In fact,” I continued and shoved the blankets back, “I’ll just leave if it’s bothering you so damn much.” I swung my legs out, and if he ended up seeing my bare ass, too damn bad. The world swayed once I stood, and I still kept my weight off the bad ankle.
“Sit down.”
“Fuck off.”
He glared, and I glared right back. “Emersyn—”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“You can call me Miss Sharpe or ma’am or a fucking cab, but you don’t get to use my name.” I’d asked him to do that when he’d been so damn kind that first night. But it was just another act. I should have learned my lesson by now. I had the absolute worst taste in…
“Sit down before you fall down. I don’t want you to get hurt any further.”
“Then why not take me to a hospital or a…” Wait. They had taken me to a doctor. No. They should still have taken me to the hospital. Called the cops. “Where am I?”
