Page 77 of Driven to Love

“What’s going on?” She had an idea, but wasn’t thrilled about it.

“I’m just collecting on that second date you promised me.”

“What date?” She hadn’t promised him anything. She hadn’t even kissed him.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Remember, you said if the Twins won that night, you’d be taking me out for pizza, which you never did.”

“Seriously, all you had to do was say something. I will order you pizza right now.” Looking around, not seeing her purse. Her phone… wasn’t here. Shit.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Plenty of time for that later.”

Addison’s gut clenched. She wiggled and wormed. The more she worked to free herself, the more the plastic ties cut into her wrists and ankles.

She dropped her head in defeat, but she wouldn’t give up. She looked for an exit on the off chance she could free herself. All she saw were stone walls and dirt floors. She couldn’t tell if she was in a basement or some old shack, but it smelled moldy. Goosebumps raced up her arms from the dampness in the room, or they could be caused by the man currently sending stabbing stares her way.

She bit back the fear that flooded her body and remembered Corey was just a guy. Men were putty in her hands. Unfortunately, her hands were tied up at the moment, but she could do this.

“Corey, I’m not into the bondage scene. Just untie me and we can go grab a slice.” She lifted her bound hands as far off the cot as she could. It was only an inch or two.

He shook his head. “Not yet.” His smirk rivaled that of the Grinch, evil and plotting.

She dropped her head to the side. “What? Can you at least tell me why? I have a really hard time thinking that just because I didn’t get you pizza for a second date, you would kidnap me and tie me up in this… Where are we?”

“Oh, you don’t think I’m one of those simpleton men who fall at your feet?”

She’d hoped.

“I figured you out the day you walked up to me in the bar. It was like God was giving me a second chance.”

Second chance? Second chance? She couldn’t think of anything where he had a first chance. Yes, Addison had dated a lot of men, but she didn’t forget them.

“I can tell by your face that you don’t know what I’m talking about. You ruin lives, and all you do is keep on going from guy to guy, the tramp that you are.”

She stared at him. Tramp? The only man she dated who was married was Mark, and she couldn’t imagine that Corey had anything to do with Mark. Could he?

The fog in her mind slowly cleared. Something in her screamed to keep him talking… find a way out of this. Because right now, fight or flight was not an option.

Nash was ready to pull his hair out. He sat across from Detective Simon. The man opened the file and scanned the list of names. “We’ve already checked out the recent list of men she’s dated. They all checked out, had alibis.”

“Well, they might’ve had alibis for other infractions like the rock through her window and stuff, but we already know that was Mrs. Louis. This has to be someone from her past.” Nash held out his hand, wiggled his fingers, waiting for the detective to hand him the list.

The detective stared at him. It would’ve scared a lesser man, but not Nash. He’d faced down sterner things than a small-town detective. Nash shot a stone-cold glare back at the man.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” The detective caved, handing the sheet with a list of names across the desk.

The list was longer than Nash expected. “You guys were thorough. You went back quite a ways.”

“That’s just in the last two years.”

Nash bit his cheek, trying to hide the annoyance. If he totaled up the number of women he’d gone on dates with in the last two years, it might not be this many, but there would be a few. He pushed aside the stab of jealousy and surveyed the list. “Well, let’s start from the top.”

“Other than you, I think we should focus on the top four, because before that, most people don’t come out of the woodwork months after the fact if they didn’t have a history of violence or domestic assault.”

Nash’s gut clenched at his words. Assault. His jaw ticked. He needed to find her… Now.

Nash looked at the names. “Frank? Marti Davis’s cousin Frank?”

“That’s the one.”