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Hammer clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks.”
Inhaling a deep breath, he ran down the hall and toward the exit, slipping past the detective who had interrogated him earlier. He jogged to Liam’s SUV, then climbed into the passenger’s seat. In the back, Beck glared at Gwyneth, who looked pale and chastened.
The reporters swarmed the vehicle as they tried to leave the club’s lot. Thankfully, the cops waved them on. Liam hit the gas.
As they pulled away, Hammer closed his eyes. An image of Juliet, lifeless and limp, flashed through his head. Her face morphed into Raine’s, and Hammer clenched his jaw to hold in his despair. She couldn’t be dead, too. He prayed they would reach the warehouse in time to save their precious Raine. If they didn’t…Hammer would be grateful to have Liam at his side this time. But he wasn’t sure he could get through the rest of this life without her.
“Wake up, slut.”
The voice penetrated Raine’s haze, but she couldn’t place it. A sharp pain to her ribs shot her up through layers of consciousness. Gasping to absorb the agony, she tried to roll away, protect her side.
Instead, Raine found herself pinned and unable to move.
Exhaustion weighed down every muscle. She groaned and forced her eyes open. A corrugated metal ceiling hung high above her, dark with rust. The dim lighting, strung from the iron crossbeams, cast an anemic beam over the yellowing walls. She shivered. Where was she? Why was it so cold? Why couldn’t she move?
“About time you came around,” slurred a voice Raine had hoped never to hear again.
She managed to turn her head and found Bill standing over her, clutching a bottle of gin. He drew his foot back menacingly as if he anticipated the chance to strike her ribs with his boot again.
When Raine saw his face, her blood ran cold. She struggled to sit up, get up—anything to flee him.
Her father took a swig from his bottle. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ve got you all spread out and ready. I even tied you down properly, just like Master Pervert. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
Glancing down her body, Raine took in her dirty clothes, the heavy metal-framed cot on which she lay a few inches from the ground, the thick, scratchy rope he’d used to bind her wrists and ankles to the corners.
Around her, the empty warehouse looked stark and lifeless. Past her feet, she could see Bill’s red truck. Beyond the vehicle, she spotted two doors. No windows, just a pair of skylights that filtered in an orangey hue and told her that dawn was breaking.
A plane flew overhead, its engines screaming in a deafening roar, as if it had just taken off nearby.
Oh, god… Where was she? Why had Bill brought her here? To repay her for thwarting him, for running away, for punching him—and any other reason he thought she deserved his wrath. And she didn’t have any illusions. He wouldn’t leave her alive to tell the police.
She wanted to hope that someone could find her, but if she had no idea where Bill had brought her, how could anyone else? Besides, after the hellacious day Liam had been through, he was likely still fast asleep. Doubtful he’d had a chance to miss her yet. Hammer’s hours had been long, too. He might be still be snoring.
More than likely, she was on her own.
Raine started to shiver and tried to force herself to breathe, to use her head. If she couldn’t fight back physically, then she had to keep him talking. Not for a second did she think she could reason with him, but his bottle looked half-empty. If she could engage him, maybe he’d keep drinking and finally pass out. Clandestinely, she tugged at her wrists. Getting free of these bonds would be difficult. He’d bound her so tightly that her fingers felt a little numb.
“What is it you want?” she finally asked. “I have money. I’ll give it to you.”
Bill gave her a drunken scoff. “Money won’t do it anymore. It’s high time I paid you and Master Pervert back. See, he thought he could stop giving me that cushy monthly stipend, and I—”
“What do you mean?” Raine cut in. She’d known that Bill had figured out where she’d gone after she’d run away from home all those years ago. Being an absolute asshole, her father would, of course, look Hammer up and threaten him. But… “Stipend?”
“Why else do you think I didn’t march over there and drag your scrawny ass back home years ago? Why else do you think I didn’t call the police and tell them he was harboring a minor in a sex club? I lived off that two grand a month, tax free, for the last six years.”
Hammer had never said a word. Never mentioned it, never hinted, never given her even the slightest indication that he and her father had come to this agreement. Math wasn’t her best subject, but she did a quick calculation. The amount he’d paid to keep her safe staggered her.
