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I don’t bother moving.
She steps up on something with an annoyed huff, so she’s eye level with me. Then she holds her phone out and clicks on the speaker button.
“Tell your daddy dearest hello, Miss Macklin,” she says with a cruel smile.
I pinch my lips together.
“Willow? Willow!” Dad sounds frantic. “Are you there? Talk to me, honey. Talk to me!”
Nothing could’ve prepared me for this.
My eyes sting. My throat closes. My pulse slows to mud.
“Willow?”
Jesus, I can’t take it. I don’t want to go along with them. I hate being their hostage, but I can’t stand the sad desperation in my father’s voice.
“Yeah, Dad, I’m here,” I whisper numbly.
“Oh, thank God. Listen, you’re going to be fine, baby,” he slurs into the speaker through his fear. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll give them whatever the hell they want. Anything to get you home safe.”
Priscilla jerks the phone away and steps down. Taking it off speaker, she holds it up to her ear again. “Yes, sir. As soon as the money hits our account, she’ll be released. We’ll drop her at a neutral pickup site where she can be collected by the local authorities, and we can all go about our merry way.”
I’m going to be sick.
Priscilla walks away, her ice-cold voice fading to nothing, and I can’t hear the conversation.
My knees lose their ability to keep me upright and I slide off the wheel well, crumbling onto the floor.
Bruce tilts his head and lets out one of his low purring growls.
“It’s all right, dude,” I whisper, knowing full well nothing’s all right.
Not anymore.
“Wha...what the fuck?” Weston mumbles quietly, smacking his lips.
I scramble over and plant my hand across his mouth.
“Shhhh,” I whisper near his ear. “Pretend you’re out.”
The poor man looks like he’s hurt worse than I am, and it’s better not to remind them they can do more damage. I’m also terrified how he’ll react if he opens his eyes and sees we’re trapped with Bruce.
He twists, looking at me like I’m nuts. There’s a lump the size of a duck egg on the side of his forehead, rising from a stain of deep purple splotches.
“W-Willow?” he whispers, a dry rattle.
“Just rest, Weston. Please. They’ve got us locked up,” I whisper back. “But it’s only me they want, so if you’re quiet, if they forget you’re even here...” I trail off, feeling like I’m asking for another miracle that won’t manifest.
Let’s be real, my track record with miracles lately kinda sucks.
Also, the Fosses aren’t the whole reason why I want him keeping a low profile. Bruce may tolerate me in the trailer with him, but anything could happen if Weston—a total stranger—starts moving or freaking out.
As if on cue, Weston’s eyes flutter open, slowly gaining focus as he stares at me. I lean over him, squeezing his shoulder, trying to obscure the tiger behind me.
Yep, I knew this wouldn’t be easy.
“Whatever you do, don’t move. Don’t scream,” I whisper slowly, ready to cover his mouth if I need to. “We’re in the trailer with Bruce.”
His eyes nearly pop out of his head. He stiffens, panicked, but collapses again with a groan.
“T-t-thefuckingtiger?” he rushes out in one word.
“Yes. He won’t hurt you. Just stay still, be quiet, and as soon as I see the first chance, I’ll handle it,” I whisper, searching his icy blue eyes. “Can you do that?”
He nods.
“Okay. Good man,” I tell him, lifting one finger to my lips.
He nods again, but otherwise remains stock-still, pinching his eyes shut.
“Oh my fuck. Does everyone here have their heads up their asses? What do you mean it’s not working?” Priscilla shouts.
I move back over to the wheel well and climb up quietly.
“My mobile hotspot can’t get a signal,” Niles grumbles, stabbing desperately at his phone’s screen. “It must be this metal building out here in no man’s land. I need the hotspot function for the laptop to get online, and I need the computer to transfer the money to our holding place as soon as it arrives. Damnation, I’m going to have to go outside.”
“Hurry it up, and don’t let anyone see you. Those cops could be back anytime,” she bites off.
“I thought you said Cook got rid of them?” Niles asks.
“He did. Just hurry, you idiot. I told Macklin he had thirty minutes to make the transfer. Otherwise, I’d be calling him right back so he could hear his daughter scream.” Something hits the side of the trailer—her fist. “You hear that, you little bitch? I wonder how that tiger would like a whiff of your blood?”
I pinch my jaw shut, refusing to give her the slightest sound.
“With great risks come great rewards. This plan is better,” Niles says in his arrogant tone. “You know how many cats we’d have to sell for this cash and a rhino horn worth an extra five million?”
