Page 108 of Heat Lightning

It smelled terrible. Actually, it almost smelled like⁠—

My vision tunneled. Just like the warehouse.

Oh, God. He’d brought me back to the warehouse.

Joey came to a sudden halt, facing me. He looked rough. Really rough. Way worse than I remembered. What the hell had happened to him? He was twitchy and jittery, and even when he’d stopped pacing, he wouldn’t stand still.

His eyes were sunken in, with hollowed-out cheekbones a skeleton would be envious of. A scar puckered down his cheek. My blood ran hot remembering the way Atlas had slashed him across the face, drawing blood.

Still muttering to himself, his hands twitched and reached for something in his pocket. I recoiled when he thrust it at me, but it was just a phone.

My phone.

“Call him.”

I blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Call him!” he shouted. “That creepy fuck in the mask. I know you’re his. Call him.”

He took two steps towards me, shoving the phone in my face. Instinctively, my hands went up in a placating gesture, and I shuffled back. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

“CALL HIM!” he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. He pulled a handgun from his pants and pointed it directly at my face. “CALL HIM!”

The crazed look in his eyes made it hard to breathe. I nearly shit myself. I’d never seen him this unstable. Joey was dangerous before, but this amount of volatility could only end in disaster. Slowly, I reached for the phone. “Okay! Okay. Calm down. I’ll call him.”

He held it out of reach, like we were playing a game of keepaway. “If you try and call the cops, I’ll blow your fucking head off. One call,” he snarled, pressing the barrel to my temple.

The thought honestly never crossed my mind. I’d call Atlas to come save me before the fucking national guard. “Got it. Only him.”

With shaky hands, I took the phone. Unlocking it, I saw Atlas had tried to call several times already. Did he know something was wrong? Surely, Gwen had realized I was gone by now and alerted him. Oh, God, please let him already be looking for me.

I tapped his name, calling him back.

He picked up on the first ring, talking so fast I could barely understand him. “Max? Max! Sweetheart, are you alright?”

Sheer relief and longing hit me so hard it made my knees weak. “Atlas.” My voice broke. “It’s Joey. We’re at the⁠—”

“Shut up,” Joey snarled, snatching the phone from my hand and putting it on speaker.

He pressed the gun into my head harder, and I couldn’t help my hiss of pain.

“I know who you are, Saint Marino,” he continued. “I know you live in that big, fancy house on the water. I know where your kid goes to daycare.”

Wait, what? Where did he get that from? Had he been following Atlas and mistaken him for Mr. Marino?

Atlas didn’t correct him. “What do you want?” His voice turned so cold it sent shivers down my spine.

Atlas wasn’t on the phone anymore. That was the Masked Man.

“I want five million dollars.” Joey cocked the gun near the phone so Atlas would hear. “Or I’m blowing the omega’s brains out.”

Five million dollars? Five million dollars?

This was ridiculous. I’d laugh if he didn’t have a gun pointed right at me. He was behaving like a raving lunatic, kidnapping me on a whim and demanding an insane amount of money for ransom.

My hysteria turned to panic quickly, though. I sucked in fast, shallow breaths, lungs unable to fully expand. There was no way in hell I was getting out of here. Joey was out of his mind, and Atlas would never find me in time.

Who the fuck did Joey think Atlas was, anyway? I mean, Mr. Marino was rich, for sure. But nobody had five million dollars just sitting in a bank account, waiting to⁠—