AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I want to tell him no, fuck no. He already tried to take everything I built once before.
But there’s no way I’m risking Rosie’s life.
“Oh, and Ryker. No police. That will only force me to do something I really, honestly don’t want to do.”
“Let me speak to her,” I snap.
“You can speak to her when—”
“You’re a liar, Zane. You lied to me for years. If you want your money, you need to let me speak with her so I know you really have her.”
It’s a struggle to keep my voice contained, to stop myself from shouting at him, but I have to do whatever it takes to keep Rosie safe.
She could be carrying my child already, a voice says from deep inside of me. Zane isn’t just threatening the woman of your dreams, the only woman you have ever wanted to be with. He’s threatening your future too.
“Fine, fine.” Zane sighs. “Hang on.”
I expect Rosie to cry or scream, the way kidnapped victims do in the movies. But the reality is somehow even worse. She sounds dead voiced, detached like she’s mentally retreated from the situation.
“Ryker? It’s me. I’m here,” she says slowly.
“I’m going to get you out of there, okay?”
Finally, a note of emotion enters the deadness of her voice, and I realize I was wrong. She isn’t detached. She’s trying to. “I’m sorry. I was going to get us breakfast and—”
“Hush. It’s not your fault. I’m going to make everything okay.”
“Promise?” she whispers.
“Promise,” I growl without hesitation.
Because she’s my woman, mine, and it’s my duty to make sure nothing bad ever happens to her.
“That’s enough.” It’s Zane again, the worm. “Call this number back when you’ve got the goods. It shouldn’t take you any longer than forty-five minutes to get back to your apartment, so don’t play any games.”
“I won’t—”
He cuts in. “Because if you play games, I’ll be forced to play some of my own. Understand?”
I’m going to rip your throat out you fucking parasite.
“Yes,” I say, swallowing my rage, swallowing my pride, thinking only of Rosie. “I understand.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rosie
“You’re Zane, aren’t you?” I say as he walks toward me with more duct tape.
He tore it off when he put the phone to my ear, letting me speak to Ryker, but now it looks like he’s going to wrap more across my lips. I can’t stand the idea of not being able to breathe, of having my mouth covered, because right now it feels like this creature is trying to steal all my air.
“Good guess.” He grins, pausing close to me. “What do you want, a sticker?”
We’re in the basement of an electronics store, light shafting in from the narrow-slit window at the top.
Footsteps pass by on the street but I know better than to shout. His knife sits on an old TV set, ready to be picked up and used at any moment. My hands are tied behind my back and my ankles are strapped to the legs of the chair.
Wait for Ryker, a voice yells inside of me. Ryker will save you.
“I just want to know your name,” I say, fighting the urge to spit at him, to call him a pathetic lowlife. “It’s only polite.”
He tilts his head at me and then grins down at the roll of duct tape in his hand.
“Polite,” he muses. “Okay, sure. I guess we better be polite. These are very polite circumstances, after all.”
He laughs and steps forward.
“Wait,” I say.
I can’t have the duct tape over my mouth again. I can’t let him do that, let him stifle my voice, my air. Because maybe then I’ll lose control and start screaming, kicking my legs, panicking. And then he’ll start those games he mentioned on the phone to Ryker.
“I have a condition,” I say quickly when he pauses. “A respiratory issue. I left my medication in the room, so if I go into shock you won’t be able to save me. I could die right here, Zane.”
“Maybe I’ll kill you anyway,” he snaps.
But I can read the uncertainty in his expression, hear it in the way his voice warbles. He’s a scumbag but something tells me he isn’t planning on killing me or hurting me. Yet.
As long as Ryker gives him what he wants.
“I’m serious. This basement is dusty enough as it is. I won’t be able to breathe properly if you put that on me again.”
“What’s the name of this condition of yours, eh?” He bares his teeth. “Come on, if it’s so important.”
“Respiratory Deficit Disorder.”
I’m not sure where the words come from, but I’m glad the lie rises to my lips. But Zane still has that disbelieving twist to his mouth, his eyes glinting coldly, glinting like the knife he may or may not use on me.
“That sounds made up as fuck?” He chuckles. “Let me google it.”
