by Heather Long
Breath slowing, I concentrated. I didn’t want to make too much noise, so I stepped deeper into the room and pulled the door closed silently behind me. The faint click seemed like a crack of gunfire in the darkness, and I winced.
The figure on the bed didn’t stir.
Six steps to the door. The carpet beneath my bare feet was soft and muffled my steps. Braced for all hell to break loose, I turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
Fuck.
Running my thumb over the knob, I found the lock and turned it. My door didn’t have a lock on the inside, just the outside. My door was also only accessible through another room. Nice and sneaky. Assholes.
Unlocked, the door opened easily, and light filtered in from the hall. It wasn’t a lot brighter, but enough to make me squint. I stole a look back at the bed. Sure, it was a horror movie cliché, but I wanted to know who was sleeping there.
A tousled blond head was all I could see beyond a long, muscled arm. So Rome.
His breathing didn’t change, and he didn’t move. Good. Turning my back on him, I looked back out in the hall. Nothing moved, and there were no sounds reaching me. I hadn’t gotten past here the last time I slipped out.
No time to waste. Sooner or later, one of them would come to find me. If I was going to escape, I needed to do it now.
The floor of the hallway was wooden and cold beneath my feet. In fact, the temperature beyond the room was a lot chillier. Right or left? The voices the other day had come from the left. So were there stairs or a door there?
It was a hallway with no windows.
Seriously, what was their problem with windows?
Tucking my wounded arm against my middle, I chose left and hurried. My ankle protested some, but I ignored it. I passed more closed doors, but I didn’t want to open every single one to check. Surely there would be stairs or something that—fuck, there were stairs. I almost slid to a halt on the wood. It was rougher here and bit at my feet.
Thankfully, I had callouses. At the top of the stairs, I peered down. Six steps, then some kind of landing. The light from the single bulb hanging above cast bizarre shadows. The walls were rougher looking than in the room too. Old. Dilapidated.
It also kind of smelled out here. Moldy. Disused. Wet.
I glanced down at the floor again. There were stains on the wood. But it wasn’t damp. That was something.
A shiver worked up my spine, and I looked back the way I’d come, then the other way.
Yeah, I really had no choice but to keep going. I wanted out, and I probably wouldn’t get this chance again. Not if they caught me.
That sent a far worse shiver up my spine. And my gut clenched.
Down the steps I went, slowing at the bottom and glancing around the wall to look down the next set of steps. Still nothing.
If this were a movie, the creepy music would’ve started playing right now. I descended the next steps and stared at another hallway, but this one wasn’t as long and there were open archways that revealed a pool table and carpeted area with sofas, chairs, and a television.
Well, look at that. There were posters up on the wall too. These were more of half-naked and never mind, all naked women with generous breasts and curvy hips. There were bottles of beer on the table. But no people.
Where the fuck were the guys? And how big was this place?
You know what, Emersyn, you don’t care. You want to get out of here, not sightsee.
Good talk.
I ignored the room and the other open archway and started looking for an exit. There was more light coming from the other end of the hallway, so I headed for it. A window. A door. I just needed one way out. The end had a door—with a window—that opened up into a warehouse?
Pulling the door open, I stared out into the drafty looking warehouse. It was all plays of shadow and light, with the light coming in from skylights along the ceiling that was easy two or three stories above me.
Son.
Of.
A.
Bitch.
The place was huge and ugly as sin. There were also cars parked inside. What were the chances those cars had keys in them?
That shit only happened in the movies.
I also had no idea how to drive.
I mean, it didn’t look hard, but I’d been driven everywhere, and the only free time I’d ever had had gone into my dancing and performances. Driving to school would have been a waste of energy.
Oh, the last thing I needed was her voice in my head, so I slammed the door on that and stopped hovering. If cars were in here, then there was an exit point. I did a slow one-eighty and there, with light shining down on it like it was a sign from the heavens, was a pair of huge doors. I didn’t waste any more time. I hurried across the open expanse and past the cars and the pair of motorcycles. The concrete was like ice beneath my feet, and I narrowly avoided a scattering of broken glass.
The door at the end started opening, and the grind of the automatic chain above pulling had me stumbling to a halt.
I jerked my head toward the only other door nearby and raced over to it. Please be unlocked. Please be unlocked. I shoved it open and ducked inside. It was like a huge utility closet. I’d barely closed the door when the smell of exhaust tickled my nose as the rumble of engines—more than one—rolled past.
Masculine voices rose up. Some loud, some softer. Most of them angry.
Or at least they sounded bent.
I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.
Come on, go away. The sooner they parked and went inside, the sooner I could get out. But even as car doors slammed, the voices didn’t dissipate.
Dammit.
I glanced around the room I was in and then up. It had a low ceiling, probably faux since it was all warehouse. I could go up through it and onto it, maybe. Then watch for when it was quiet. Another door nestled at the back. It had a giant bar lock on it. The kind you used to keep someone from opening it from the other side.
Like on emergency exits. You could pop them from the inside, but they had nothing on the other. What I thought was a closet, was more of an office. Well, a dusty one that didn’t seem in use.
There was a desk. An old ratty chair. Some buckets with stained cloths in them.
Probably better to not know what that was.
I leaned against the closed door and listened. Two men were arguing. I really wished I could hear what they were saying. But they didn’t sound in a hurry to end it.
Fine.
Fingers crossed, this door opened to the outside. I didn’t think it was close enough to the outer wall, but I’d take a hallway and some windows right now. The lock was hard to pop, and I had to twist it to release the bar. Shoving the door open, I narrowly swallowed a scream as the lights came on overhead and in the room that I’d opened. A cold, stone room, with one person sitting on the floor, slumped really.
Half of his face was swollen and bruised, nearly unrecognizable. His wheezing breaths told me he was alive. There was blood on his feet. And his arm hung oddly, or he was clutching it to himself in a weird way.
Bile crawled up my throat because the room stank of piss and shit and blood.
I really was in a horror movie.
Then he opened his eyes, and I slammed a hand over my mouth to keep the sound inside.
“Emersyn,” he wheezed.
Eric.
Oh God.
It was Eric.
“You…”
What had they…
“…cunt.”
The door behind me slammed open, and I jerked, retreating into the cell with a monster to get away from the monsters coming for me.
It slammed shut behind me, leaving me trapped in darkness.
A scrape of sound against the floor like he was getting up. Then the door shoved open, and Jasper filled the entrance, his gray eyes fixed on me and then jerked toward Eric, who was up.
Shit.
He lumbered right at me, and dammit, better the monster I d
idn’t know in this instance. I went to Jasper, even as he caught Eric by the throat and slammed the man back against the wall.
“Don’t look at her,” he ordered, and I stared as he rammed his forearm into Eric’s trachea, choking him.
Eric was a big guy. He’d always towered over me and used that strength and size to his advantage. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized that Jasper and Eric were almost the same height. Jasper might actually be taller.
Then Eric whimpered, and the sound cracked right through the center of the fear floating in my veins.
“Cunt…caused…this.” The choked words and spittle flew out of his mouth like Jasper squeezed them out with the force of his hold.
Instead of answering him, Jasper drove his fist into Eric’s side. Once. Twice. On the third, there was a faint snap, and I flinched.
The crack of a rib was a familiar noise.
I retreated, the bile burning in my throat and souring my stomach, threatening to make me sick, when warmth pressed right up against my back. I flinched again and yanked away, only to be caged by a pair of colorful arms, trapping me against him.
“Easy, Dove.” The familiar croon of Vaughn’s voice washed over me, and I nearly sagged. The adrenaline rush from the escape crashed, even as the fear and disgust at finding a beaten Eric trapped here as well swam through me. “Easy, we got you. Big stupid dancer boy is not going to hurt you again. Promise.”
Wait…what?
“Get her the fuck out of here,” Jasper said over his shoulder, but when I looked up, he was staring right at me, not at Vaughn. Despite his harsh tone, his expression was neither twisted nor furious. “Go.”
Was that a request? Not an order?
That didn’t make any sense.
I was still trying to sort that out when Vaughn walked backward, taking me with him. He didn’t drag so much as just lifted me and moved. Then we were back out in the main warehouse, and there were a dozen guys staring at me.
Including Kestrel, who looked angrier than he had when he’d snapped at me for being here in the first place, and Doc, who shoved past him and headed straight for me.
I would have made for him, but Vaughn spun me away. “Ah-ah, Doc. Let’s not start more violence. Dove’s already feeling a bit under the weather after the stench in there. Told Hawk we should have taken the garbage out.”
Kestrel swore, and Doc grunted. But the door behind us slammed shut, and Jasper was in front of me. Only this time when Vaughn tried to swing me away, Jasper said, “Give her to me.”
“Hawk…”
“When I want your opinion, Kestrel, I’ll ask. Give her to me, Falcon. The rest of you, get your asses to work.”
“It’ll be fine, Dove,” Vaughn said against my ear before he handed me over. Jasper gripped me by the biceps of my good arm, but it wasn’t a harsh grasp, and even as he started walking, he didn’t hurry. If anything, he shortened his steps to mine.
“Move,” Jasper said, and suddenly, all those people had somewhere else to be. I glanced at Doc as we passed him.
But he didn’t intercede on my behalf, and Kestrel looked away.
Good to know that alliances were fleeting.
If they existed at all.
Jasper walked me back inside and right past the little living room and the pool table and the television, but instead of going upstairs, we went into a kitchen.
Um.
He pointed to a table as he let me go and dragged out a chair. “Sit.”
Prickling at the order, I glared at him.
Jasper let out a growling groan and met me stare for stare. “Sit. Down.” I honed in on the speck of blood on his cheek. It wasn’t huge, but…he’d had Eric by the throat.
He’d cracked his ribs.
I sat.
I was trembling like hell, and it was taking everything I had to keep my teeth from chattering.
What was it that I’d said about the monster I didn’t know?
Chapter 11
Emersyn
Jasper stared at me for a minute, the frozen tundra of his gray eyes locking me in place. He raised a hand to his mouth, then paused. The minute he looked at his hand, air whooshed out of me.
“Fuck,” he swore.
Jerking my gaze to follow his, I swallowed back bile at the red coating his fingers. I knew what I’d find the minute I looked, and still, I glanced at my upper arm. Where his fingers had gripped me were bloody marks. Still swearing, he scrubbed his hands in the sink, then went over to the ugly ass fridge with its boring beige exterior and yanked it open. Bottles rattled and he pulled out two, then walked over to the table.
He did that thing where guys rest the bottle cap lip against the edge of the table and hit with his fist. The lid popped off and he slid the first bottle to me, then popped the second and took a long pull from it.
Despite the fact that I hadn’t eaten, it had been a fucking day. I took the bottle and downed about half of it. It was awful, and I coughed at the harsh bitterness of the dark beer.
“Might try sipping it,” he suggested, and I just glared at him. The guy had blood on his hands, and he had Eric in a storeroom out there while he was holding me hostage in here. Not looking away, I downed the rest of the bottle.
I didn’t cough this time. I’d choke on it before I gave in.
One eyebrow up, he took my empty bottle and replaced it with his. Then stared at me as if daring me to repeat it. I took a drink and ignored the fact he’d just had his lips on the same place. Disgusting as it was, it hit my system like a shot of valium, quieting the quakes and soothing the rougher edges.
“Hey, Hawk,” a guy said as he stomped into the room. He had tattoos over both arms, long sleeves of them, jungle foliage with animals peeking out at me. His arrival earned a colder stare from Jasper than he’d been giving me. “What do you want us to do with the stash?”
“Put it away for now. We’ll deal with it later. Clean up. Then you and JD head out and grab food.” Jasper cut a look at me. “Fried chicken.”
I didn’t say a word. The fact they lived on a steady diet of fast food was killing me. Particularly with me not working or training.
“Actually, get a little of everything.”
“Sure thing,” the tattooed guy said before he glanced at me. “Do we get to ask who the chick is?”
“No, you don’t, Rat.” Kestrel stood in the doorway to the kitchen. “Get lost.”
The guy actually ran a hand over his bald head. He caught me staring at him and winked. I rolled my eyes and looked away.
“I said go.” Kestrel half-growled the words, and Jasper smirked. The guy was out, and voices came from down the hall. Shouts and laughter. Then the television cranked up, and somewhere else, music began to thump.
I’d spent days in a room wrapped by silence with only one of my stone-faced and snappish captors for company.
“Hey, Dove,” Vaughn said as he sailed into the room. “You hungry? I’m starving.”
Well, except for Vaughn. He’d been attempting to engage me.
“Sent the rats for food,” Jasper said as he returned to the fridge. “Where the fuck is Rome, and why wasn’t he watching her?”
“Good question,” Kestrel said. “You want to fill us in on his whereabouts, Ms. Sharpe?”
The use of my last name was a little verbal jab, even if he was following my wishes. Jasper let out a soft snort as he pulled out another bottle. He repeated the process of opening it.
“She doesn’t talk,” he said. “So go check her room. Maybe she clocked him with something.” There was almost some amusement in his voice.
“I’ll do it,” Vaughn said before Kestrel could reply. “And if the rats get back with food, save me some. I’ve got work in a couple of hours, and I’ve got appointments all afternoon.”
The silence he left in his wake had me turning the beer bottle in my hand, drawing little circles of condensation against the tabletop. So close.
I’d been so close to getting out.
&n
bsp; So close.
“Sparrow,” Kestrel said almost on a sigh, and my shoulders stiffened at that endearment. It had been sweet when he’d been my driver. My ally. My almost friend.
Okay, admit it, when I wanted to climb him like a tree and take just a little bit of pleasure for myself. I liked that he had a pet name for me. Kind of like Vaughn’s ‘Dove.’ But unlike Vaughn, Kestrel turned out to be a lie. Everything about him had been a lie, and that made that name just another lie.
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I took a long drink of beer rather than give into them.
“You can pretend we’re not here all you like, doesn’t change facts.”
“Really?” I glanced at him slowly. He stood close enough I could touch him, but it also forced me to crane my neck to look up at him. Arms folded, he cut an imposing figure. It didn’t help that he wore filthy jeans and a shirt with grease stains on it. Gone was the expensive, tailored suit that he’d sported when he’d been driving me.
I guessed he didn’t need it here.
“Really,” he confirmed, one corner of his full mouth turning upward. Normally clean-shaven, he had a fair amount of scruff on his face and another dirt stain on his cheek. Like he’d wiped the back of his hand against his face. His hands were also pretty filthy with grime seemingly embedded on his nails. The hands had always been big and calloused, I just assumed from some other labor in addition to his driving.
Maybe working on the cars too?
“Let’s talk facts,” I said as I forced myself to meet his blue-green gaze. “Fact—you posed as my driver to get close to me. Fact—your friend here got a job working backstage for the same reason. So did Vaughn. Fact—you kidnapped me. Fact—you’re holding me hostage. I assume for ransom, though if you’d demanded it, it would have been paid by now. Fact—you’re holding Eric in a room out there and torturing him. Fact—I want to leave, and if you want to tell me how much the ransom is, I’ll pay it. I have access to money.”
