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Why is he saying human like he’s not?
Is this a crazy person?
I’ve read about crazy people. In a recent psychological article that was floating around Facebook, I read all about people who think that they’re totally sane, but who aren’t. This guy? Definitely not sane.
“You should go,” I say, trying to stay calm. My heart is racing. It’s a good thing he can’t see it because it would definitely give me away.
“I will go,” he says, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Then he adds, “But you’re coming with me.”
He steps forward and reaches for me. I move to kick him, to punch him, to push him away. He’s too swift, though. He turns me around and pulls me so my back is against his chest and his hand is covering my mouth. I try to bite him, but I can’t quite reach his skin. Besides, his grip is way too strong. I’m getting the feeling this isn’t the first time he’s done this.
I shake my head, trying to wiggle away, but the man doesn’t seem bothered at all.
“You have two options, Heather. You can be a good girl and sit quietly in the backseat. I’ll tie your hands, but you’ll be able to watch where we’re going and you’ll have a nice, comfortable ride.”
I stay still, not wanting to hear what the second option is.
“Or you can fight me, and I’ll knock you unconscious and shove you in my trunk,” he says.
Fuck.
So no matter what happens now, I’m not getting out of here alive. The only reason he would offer to let me look out the windows is if he knows I can’t do anything about where we’re going. That means that no matter where we’re going, it’s the last place I’ll ever go. This guy is going to murder me and he doesn’t even care.
I’ve seen enough cop shows to know that you don’t want to go to a secondary location. If your abductor gets you to a new place, he’ll definitely kill you and the worst part is that nobody will ever find you. At least if he kills me in the parking lot, the hotel staff will find me later. Someone will know what happened to me.
He loosens his grip on my mouth for just a second, and I take the opportunity to jerk my head around as much as possible and then bite him on the finger.
He growls and slaps me. The shock surprises me, catching me off guard, and I’m momentarily dazed.
“Oh Heather,” he says. I feel the prick of a needle in my neck and I instantly start to feel drowsy. “I thought you would choose better than that.”
Then everything goes black.
Chapter Two
Flynn
“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Gaston turns to me from his position in the driver’s seat as I slide into the car.
“Shut up and drive,” I growl. I slam my door shut, wrestle with my seat belt, and lean back in the seat.
“Aye-aye, captain,” he says sarcastically, but he starts driving the car, and that’s all I care about. I shouldn’t have tried to take her alone. Gaston offered to help me acquire the female, but I was too stubborn. After I talked to her this evening at the book signing, I almost didn’t want to take her at all.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have a choice.
She knows far too much about our people. We have to figure out where she’s getting her information and why she’s sharing it with the world. Why does Heather Smith, ordinary human, have such a vested interest in the world of t
he supernatural?
By all accounts, she’s just a normal person. I saw the background information: 29-years-old, average height, average weight, average life. She dresses nicely and she takes care of herself. It’s safe to say that book sales are good for Miss Smith, so what’s her deal?
Why is she sharing personal secrets that could get the shifters killed?
Gaston pulls out of the parking lot and onto the busy street. Nobody in the hotel will even know we were there. As far as they’re concerned, the employees passed out after a long day at work and oh, what a surprise, the security cameras were down, too.
He starts driving, and the tiniest feeling of guilt washes over me about how I treated Heather. Maybe I shouldn’t have put her in the trunk. Was that really necessary? I mean, did I really expect that she wouldn’t fight back?
“Just say it,” Gaston says. He’s known me long enough to know that something is bugging me about this entire situation.
