Page 10 of Hard Bargain

Knox swallowed, his grip tightening on the doorframe. “You—you said—”

“I said you owed me,” he replied evenly.

Knox’s fingers curled against the wood. “I didn’t say anything. I swear.”

“I believe you,” he said. “That’s why you’re still standing.”

That reassurance did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves.

“I need to ask you a few questions,” the man continued. “Somewhere private.” His gaze shifted past Knox, down the hallway. “Do you live alone?”

Knox stiffened. “My mom—”

“She won’t be involved,” he said, cutting him off without raising his voice. “But I’m not having this conversation where we can be overheard. Follow us.”

Knox hesitated. Every instinct screamed not to go, not to give them anything more than they’d already taken. But the alternative—slamming the door in their faces—wasn’t an option. So he grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door, fingers unsteady despite the effort to control them, and followed.

They led him to an SUV parked along the curb. He got in because he couldn’t think of anything else to do. Because not getting in felt like a worse idea.

The two men slid into the front seats, their movements casual, as if this was just another routine pickup. The guy in the passenger seat turned, reaching back over the console, and held out a black cloth hood. “Put this on.”

Knox stared at it, the air in his chest catching. “No.” The refusal came fast and instinctive. He shook his head, pulling back. “I’m not doing that.”

The man didn’t withdraw his hand. He simply waited, arm outstretched, patient as ever.

Then he spoke from the driver's seat, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “If I have to put it on you, you won’t like how that happens.”

Knox’s heartbeat faltered, then surged again, harder than before. He shrank back into the seat, his eyes on the back of the man’s head, searching for anything that might suggest a bluff.

There was nothing. Only the promise of force if he pushed.

He reached out clumsily and took the hood. The fabric felt heavier in his hands than it should have, its weight disproportionate to what it was. He hesitated before pulling it down over his head.

Darkness swallowed everything. The world shrank to sound and sensation—the noise of his own breathing, the subtle shift of bodies in the front, and the violent rhythm of his pulse in his ears.

“Good,” the man said.

The engine turned over, and the SUV pulled away from the curb and merged onto the road. Knox’s spine stiffened, bracing for the unknown. Without sight, everything else sharpened. He was aware of every inch of himself, every fear prickling beneath his skin. The seatbelt cut a hard line across his chest. Each turn threw him off balance, one way then the other, with no way to prepare for any of it.

He had no idea where they were taking him. No idea who they truly were beyond what he’d already seen. And still, he’d gotten into the car without a fight.

His pulse refused to slow, but beneath it, something else stirred. There was a dangerous curiosity that wove itself through the fear. It was the same instinct that had kept him standing in that alley when he should’ve run. The part of him that always leaned toward trouble, even when he knew better.

He should have been fighting this, clawing for some kind of control, some distance between himself and whatever was coming. Instead, he sat still. As if some part of him had accepted that whatever came next wasn’t something he could avoid.

The gunshot had terrified him.

But this part of himself—the part always drawn to the unknown—felt far more dangerous.

* * *

After what felt like twenty minutes—though time had long since lost any real shape—the SUV began to slow. The tires rolled over rough concrete, the vibration cutting through the floor and straight up his spine. Somewhere ahead, a garage door groaned open, the sound deep and mechanical.

They were pulling into a building, somewhere he wouldn’t be seen. The engine idled, and for a moment nothing happened. Then the hood was yanked from his head.

Fluorescent light slammed into his eyes, forcing them shut before he could stop it. He squinted as his vision adjusted, the world returning piece by piece. There were gray concrete floors, steel columns, and rows of parked cars. The space was wide and industrial, enclosed enough that every sound seemed to carry.

The front doors opened, and both men stepped out without a word. Knox climbed out after them. The air inside the garage was cooler, brushing against his skin and raising a faint shiver along his arms. Neither man looked back to check on him. They moved forward with certainty, as though his compliance had never been in question.