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“You stalked me, kidnapped me, and drugged me, and now you want me to act like we’re two people just getting to know each other? Right.”
“I saved you from that biker, you could at least be grateful.”
But maybe talking about himself would keep his focus anywhere but on me. I continued to awkwardly ballerina towards the table as quietly as possible. “Fine. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, then?”
But another wave of dizziness hit me then, completely fucking with my balance, and I went crashing down. Zachary immediately dropped what he was doing and came rushing towards me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to give him big, innocent eyes. “I fell off the bed, I must…still be exhausted from my crazy day, huh?”
He helped me back on the bed, notably not removing my bonds, and as he wandered off back to the kitchen, I contemplated round two of ‘Fetch the Knife’.
Maybe if I lowered myself to the ground and butt-scooted forward, I’d have a better shot…
Chapter 31
Rocky
The sun had set, and I’d been on the road for nearly two hours now. Slate, the fucking genius, had given me an address, and after continuous research and hacking and whatever the fuck else magic he did while I was on the road, he was pretty confident we were following the best possible lead.
Zachary Augustine, twenty-six-year-old with no social media presence, who lived alone and worked cyber-security as a freelancer online. He’d worked briefly in a college IT department, until he’d gotten fired six months ago. I did a double take at the name, it was the same college Peyton and Nolo attended, and I wondered if he had first seen her there. The car was registered to an address in Vegas, but apparently, the dude had a small lodge out in the butt-fuck end of Mercury with no neighbors—which sounded like a perfect place to lock an abducted woman, if you asked me.
I pulled to a stop on a dirt road a little way back from where I could see his cabin, with his shitty little Hyundai out front. The lights were on inside, and according to Slate, the boys weren’t far behind me. But if Peyton was in there, I wasn’t about to leave her to the mercies of that fucker for a second longer than I needed to. Leaving my bike right there on the side of the road as a marker for the others to see when they arrived, I headed silently towards the cabin.
I circled the small property twice, searching for all ways in and out. Two windows, and a single door. That’s when I saw her.
She was on the floor, on all fours. But that wasn’t the only thing I noticed. There was duct-tape around her ankles and wrists, and she was crawling desperately across the room while his back was turned. Her gaze darted often towards the pale-haired man who stood cooking in the kitchen, and she reached under the wooden table for something.
My hands flexed into fists as I watched her, my anger growing and festering at the idea that this motherfucker had reduced her to this. I was going to fucking kill him.
But I caught the flash of a gun at his waistband and decided to play it safe. Just in case the fucker was a good shot.
Slate could have probably come up with a good plan, involving back up and probably even the police, but Slate wasn’t here. And I wasn’t waiting.
My style? Barrel in headfirst, guns blazing, and shoot everything until no one was trying to kill me anymore. It’d worked out well enough for me so far, so…
Sucking in a quick breath, I pulled out my gun and rapped on the front door. Then I pitched my voice as high as it would go. “’Scuse me, my car has broken down.”
I winced at how dumb I sounded, even as I plastered myself flat against the wall beside the entrance. I didn’t need him to believe me, I only needed him to open the door—or for Peyton to start shouting and give me a good second or two of distraction. Which is exactly what the fuck she did.
“Help, this fucker’s got me tied up in here!” she screamed, loud and shrill and angry, which was accompanied by a clatter in the kitchen and the thumping of footsteps away from me.
I immediately shot at the flimsy handle and kicked the door in, rounding into the room gun first. There was a flash of a skinny man running past and the loud pop of live fire, and I jerked back out the cabin on pure instinct. When I tried to re-enter, another pop, pop, pop came at me, and I pressed myself once more against the wall by the door outside.
Fuck. That hadn’t gone according to my non-plan.
“Give me the girl, fuckface, and I’ll leave here without killing you,” I bellowed, snarling and angry at the fucker’s quick response.
“Leave now,” came the quavering voice of a man cornered, “and I won’t shoot the girl in the head.”
Double fuck. Good going, Rocky.
His voice sounded like it was coming from where I’d seen Peyton by the table, and I immediately slipped around to the back window.
“Rocky?” Peyton’s voice was shaky and filled with hope, and when I risked a quick look, I could see that she was curled in a tight ball on the floor, hiding something in her lap, while he was crouched around her. “Oh god, baby, is that you?”
“Shh,” Zachary shushed her angrily. He had her body pressed tight into his chest, one arm holding her while the other pressed a gun to her head. “I’m going to shoot her if you don’t leave!”
I ground my teeth together as I silently made my way back to the door.
