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The bulldog with a sharp jaw and scowl etched between his eyes shoves the hooded captive into the chair opposite me—that’s when I realize they’re cuffed, too.
He reaches down and unshackles the person’s wrists, and I see feminine hands and chipped nail polish, which only drives my anxiety higher.
“What the fuck is going on?” My nerves feel shot to all hell.
At the sound of my voice, the figure across from me stiffens, then starts yelling incoherently against their gag. Not frightened noises, but ones filled with fury. As soon as the cuffs are released, her hands fly up and wrench the hood off.
“Oh my god…Em?” My shriek pierces the air. Launching forward at my best friend, she blinks at me like an owl. Wild hair halos her face, mascara smeared in dark circles below her eyes.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” I shout at the brick wall of a man who stands with arms folded and the cuffs dangling ominously from one hand.
Easing the gag out of my best friend’s mouth, I drag it down her neck and cup her face in both hands.
“Are you ok?” I’m torn between wanting to hug my friend and gouge out the eyes of the man who brought her here like this. “Stay the fuck away from her.” I hiss in his direction.
Em seems to blink back online after staring at me in shock for a moment. “I’m fine, babe.” She works her jaw to ease the tension after being gagged for god knows how long. “Or, at least, I will be once I get rid of my psychopath wardens.” Her eyes flash with fire as she runs a hand over her disheveled hair and glares daggers at the man.
A throat clears. Thorne stands in the doorway and jerks his head in the stranger’s direction. Summoning him outside.
“Run along, then.” Em narrows her eyes.
Before he moves, he weighs the cuffs in one hand and runs his tongue across the front of his teeth. Looking all too pleased to click them back around her wrists. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you about the consequences of being a hellhound.” His voice is a quiet threat in the small confines of the plane before he’s gone, following Thorne down the steps and out onto the tarmac.
“Ugh, thank god. Screw him and his stupid little games.” She rubs at her wrists.
“Em, what the fuck is going on, are you hurt?” I take in what she’s wearing, and the fact she’s turned up looking every inch a captive, and my mind starts racing.
She shrugs my question off and instead latches onto me with a tight hug. “Fuck me, it’s so good to see your face. Don’t even worry about that…he’s just a temporary test of my sanity.”
I squeeze her back, still in complete shock at the fact my best friend is here, after convincing myself I might never see her again. “Are you sure you’re ok? It doesn’t look like it, to be brutally honest.”
Possible kidnapping and being forced here against her will aside, Emerald Kirby does not wear baggy track pants and oversized hoodies. Ever.
“Oh, what, because you’re sitting here all glamorous on a private jet? Please, I’ll take my little kidnapping role-play any day over luxury seats and private air travel.” She giggles. At least her sense of humor is still intact. Surely, that’s a good sign? “Apparently, my protection squad don’t know the difference between being bodyguards or brutes with egos the size of Saturn.”
A few puzzle pieces slot into place in my mind. Thorne had threatened Em’s life when they first took me; maybe this is his twisted version of making sure no one gets to harm my friend unless it’s on their orders, of course.
But I can’t go revealing anything because otherwise, her life is most likely to end up in far more danger than it’s worth.
“They didn’t do anything to you… like, drug you?” My eyes dart back toward the empty doorway.
She gives me a funny look, but then shakes her head. “No, babe. Honestly, despite how this might look, I’m fine.”
Something tells me my friend is hiding her own secrets right now, and I’m not exactly sure where to start with my own teetering pile of lies I’m perched upon.
I’ve never told her about my past, and she has never pressed me for details.
“So, my woman of mystery.” Em settles back in her seat and readjusts her hair into a bun, before crossing her legs. Seeming entirely unbothered by the circumstances she arrived in. “One minute you were busy telling me about your whirlwind romance with Mr. Calliano, the next minute you lost your phone, and now we’re here, looking like you’re about to jet off to somewhere fabulous.”
I stare at her with my mouth hanging open.
“What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been avoiding my calls like the plague, but at least getting a few text replies here and there let me know I wasn’t going to see you pop on late-night news after finding your body floating face down in the river.”
My brain is struggling to catch up. Em doesn’t look pissed off, more an eerie sort of calm. It’s almost as if she’s only half present with me here.
“You got texts? From me?” Repeating her words back to her only results in an arch of an eyebrow. Confusion runs rampant because I sure as hell know I’m not the one who has been texting my best friend.
“Of course, and call me ridiculous for even saying it, but I suppose I can forgive you for leaving me with barely one-word answers…even if it was all because of a guy.” Em does an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “I’m truly happy you finally met someone, so here’s me doing my best to be supportive of you, bitch.”
