The cord released, and like a cartoon character, she sprang forward. She raised her hands to Sloane, who slid the knife between her wrists. The ties dropped to the cold concrete. She did the same to the bindings around her ankles.
“God, that feels so much better. Thank you.”
Thank you? Thank you?For a fraction of a second, Jules studied their dynamic. Did Olivia think Sloane was rescuing them? Did she not hear the cell phone camera snap the picture?
Olivia rolled her wrists and flexed her ankles. “I need a new shirt.”
Jules lost the capacity to speak.
Maybe she was still dreaming, and this was the stupidest nightmare she’d ever had. It would tick all the boxes and hit all her stressors. Olivia and Mason? Check. Drama with Tabitha? Check again. But there had been a gunfight. She was sure of it. Jules could still smell the acrid burn in her nostrils. “What’s happening?”
“I’m turning your career into more than you can fathom. That’s what’s happening.” Sloane closed the knife instead of releasing the plastic ties on Jules.
“Untie me,” she demanded.
“Not yet. Not until we’re all on the same page.”
Sloane and Olivia were on the same page. In what world was this happening? What about Mason and Tabitha?
“We have a couple of options for you.” Sloane wrinkled her nose and inched from Olivia. “Can you scoot over? You smell like vomit.”
Olivia sighed but obeyed.
“What options?” Jules asked. “What are Olivia’s options? Why’d you untie her?”
“Focus, Jules. Option one. You’re a team player. I leave you and Olivia with the knife. You get out of your ties and get out of the warehouse. A ransom request goes out, but you’ve escaped, and the money request is moot. Cops go on a wild goose chase, finally realizing that whatever idiot gangbangers took you aren’t going to turn up. They already have a couple of dead losers. They’ll tie the whole thing up with a neat, shiny bow, and I’ll have you on every news outlet known to man, where you share your harrowing experience. We might even get a charity foundation out of this. Some tax shield that benefits you. I don’t know. Something like the Jules Lowry Charity for Strong Girls or something.”
Jules might puke on herself like Olivia. “Option two?”
“Olivia escapes and has a sad, sad story about how you heroically tried to save her from said gangbangers. But she does the network interviews by herself. She and Mason start the Jules Lowry Memorial Scholarship Fund for Strong Girls.” Sloane narrowed her eyes. “And maybe a charity for babies or kids also.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If a Kardashian sex tape can launch an entire family into a billion-dollar enterprise, I can turn a stalker and kidnapping into the same.” Sloane bobbled her hands. “This would be more found family than blood relations, but you get my drift.”
“Those are my options? You’re seriously going to kill me?”
“You’re not an idiot. You’re not going to choose to die.”
“Hollywood is cutthroat,” Olivia said. “You’ve taught me that since we became friends.”
“I’m not cutthroat.”
“Yeah, you are.” Olivia rubbed a hand over her tiny belly. “Except you have Sloane do your dirty work.”
“Fucking untie me.”
Sloane snapped another picture.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jules stopped pulling at her bindings.
“Working on the ransom request.”
She needed to buy time. Rhys would find her. If he hadn’t figured this out yet, he would. “Can you just explain this to me like an idiot? Where’s Mason? What’s he have to say about all this?” Mason didn’t want to kill her. They weren’t in love, but they were friends.Ish.God. Maybe he did. Jordan Everett had wanted her dead, and she’d had no idea. Clearly, she’d had no idea about Sloane. “Talk to me like I’m stupid. Explain. I’ll be on board. You know I will, Sloane.”
“Mason’s at home,” Olivia said. “He’s an idiot.”
“I don’t know how you ever convinced that man to marry you,” Sloane said. “But damn, did that work out well.”
