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“You think anyone’s really gonna look that hard?”
I shrug. “I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
As he reaches the exit, I roll the window down and toss the key into the drop box before nodding at Hawk. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
I tuck Avery under my chin and breathe her in. I can smell the faint traces of the hospital still on her skin and even a hint of blood, but beneath that is the sweet, natural scent I’ve always loved.
Now, though, knowing it’s someone else’s favorite smell, I grind my teeth and hope we can hurry up and get this shit over with before it blows our lives apart.
Chapter Seven
Avery
I wake with a groan. I feel like ass, and not even the good kind that’s been to the gym and is all toned and shit. No, I feel like hot, sweaty, haven’t washed in days, post-festival ass.
I roll over and bite back a curse when my shoulder protests. Oh, yeah. That’s right. I was shot, and everyone hates me. Welcome to episode fifty-seven of my wonderful life.
Opening my eyes, I wince at the sunlight flooding the room. I must have forgotten to close the blinds last night. Wait, I mean this morning. I shake my head, confused, feeling like I’ve slept far longer than just a few hours, but I couldn’t have if it’s still light outside.
I consider closing my eyes and sleeping the day away, but that’s not going to happen without drugs. I never thought I’d miss the good stuff they gave me at the hospital, but the shit they have me on now wears off way before I can take another dose.
With a sigh, I look at the ceiling. A ceiling made of exposed wooden beams, not the nicotine-stained popcorn ceiling in my motel room.
“What the hell?”
It takes my brain a few moments to realize what I'm seeing, but when it does, I freeze. That’s not my ceiling. This is not my motel.
I gingerly manage to get myself into a sitting position and look out the window of the unfamiliar room and see nothing but blue sky. Sweat coats my body, and not all of it is from the bizarre heatwave baking me alive.
Slowly, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and get to my feet, taking in my body first. The T-shirt I’m wearing is my own. After tugging the material up and gazing down, I can confirm that so are the panties. They are the ones I wore home from the hospital. I hurt like a motherfucker, but not in any places that makes me feel like I’ve been violated. I might be naïve, but I have to believe I’d know if something was done to me while I was asleep. I’d feel it, right? I’d sure as hell wake up.
Except I didn’t wake up when someone came into my hotel room and stole me out of bed.
Vomit rushes up the back of my throat as I stumble to the closest door, which is, thankfully, a small bathroom. I drop to my knees in front of the toilet and puke up what little I have in my stomach. When there’s nothing left inside me, I flush the toilet before climbing to my feet, my legs shaking as if I’d run a marathon.
Spotting my toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink, I brush my teeth and try to convince myself that this is all just a mistake. The meds must have knocked me out. Obviously, someone is here with me, and they changed me because I got sick, right? Maybe Ev or Greg? But as I spit out my toothpaste, I’m not sure I believe that.
Taking a deep breath, I search the bathroom for a weapon, but there’s nothing here. Looking down at the toothbrush in my hand, I wonder if I could do any damage stabbing someone in the eye with it.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I make my way out to the bedroom and look around for something better to use. But apart from the large bed in the center of the room, it’s empty. Somehow, I don’t think instigating a pillow fight would be a good idea.
“Fuck,” I hiss as I head to the door. It’s not a huge room, but it seems to take me forever to reach it. When my hand touches the knob, I hesitate, wondering if it’s better to stay where I am and delay whatever is going to come.
Biting my lip, I find what little courage I can and turn the knob, surprised when it opens. I push the door wide, cringing when it creaks. Stepping out into what looks like the living area, I look around but don’t see anyone.
I hurry across the room to the kitchen I see on the far left. I search the drawers and whimper with relief when I find a set of knives. Dropping my toothbrush, I grab the biggest knife in the drawer and hold it out in front of me as I make my way to the front door.
I’m almost in touching distance when it swings open, making me freeze when I see Hawk’s imposing frame filling the doorway.
He takes me in, his eyes moving from my face to the knife in my hand, before he glares at me. “Drop the knife, Avery.”
I stumble back, but I don’t drop the knife. “What the hell is going on?”
“Drop the knife first. I don’t trust you not to stab me in the back. You’re good at that, after all.”
“You’re crazy. You kidnapped me and—”
