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Chapter Seven
Jess
The wail of a steel guitar pulled me from sleep and the sound combined with the faint scent of lilac forced me to open my eyes. There was only one person on earth who wore lilac perfume and actually liked old country music.
“Mother,” I grunted, pushing myself upright as my head gave a nauseating spin.
“You’re awake,” she said in surprise. “I thought you’d be out longer.”
“Thought or hoped,” I muttered, holding my head so it would stop spinning around
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on my neck.
“Both,” she answered brightly. “But no worries, I’m happy you recovered so quickly.”
“You roofied me,” I accused thickly, running my tongue over my teeth, my mouth feeling like cotton.
“I simply gave you something to make you more manageable,” she corrected without a hint of remorse.
“Water,” I croaked, whatever moisture that had remained in my mouth gone with my attempts to speak. She passed me a water bottle and I glared at it suspiciously.
“Oh, it’s fine,” she huffed. “I have no need to knock you out now.”
I struggled to get the cap off, relieved as I broke the seal on it. She might be telling the truth but I had no reason to believe her. I took a long swallow, and then a smaller sip, swishing the water around my mouth as I tried to orient myself.
“Where are we?” I finally asked, figuring out I was in a car but the pitch black darkness outside made it hard to decipher landmarks.
She gave an elegant shrug and I noticed her clothing was spotless and expensive. “Montana?” She offered, not bothered by the fact that she didn’t know.
“Montana?!?” I shrieked and she winced.
“Inside voice,” she chided and I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head. Between my head, which continued to throb and the fact that I was stuck in a car with my psychotic mother, I thought she was fucking lucky I wasn’t screaming at her.
“How about you let me out of the car and it won’t matter?” I retorted, holding my head as it gave a sick throb. “How much did you give me?” I added, trying to mentally calculate how many hours it would take to get to Montana from the motel, and quickly giving up as my head threatened to revolt.
“I’m not sure,” she replied, tapping her lip with one manicured nail. “I left that up to Bruce.”
“And who is Bruce?” I asked, taking a chance my head wouldn’t fall off when I craned my neck to check the backseat. I wouldn’t put it past my mother to have him laid out back there, awaiting her beck and call.
“Oh, I disposed of him before we left Idaho,” she rushed to assure me and I eyed her narrowly, no longer sure what she meant by ‘disposed’ since she’d gone to rather spectacular lengths to kidnap me. “I hired him to help me rescue you,” she continued pertly and I blinked stupidly for several seconds.
Rescue me?
“From what?” Is what finally came out of my mouth and from the downturn of her lips I could tell she didn’t appreciate my lack of gratitude. But what the hell? “Seriously, Mother. You need to turn the car back around.” I groped around inside of my head, at least that’s how it felt with the headache from hell, and finally felt the faintest glimmer of my link to Dom. It felt stretched, almost impossibly thin, and I was afraid to use it for fear it would snap completely. I still wasn’t an expert at linking to the bond and if my muddled instincts could be trusted, the distance between us would only make it that much harder.
“No,” she said petulantly. “I won’t.” She shook her head as she tucked a perfectly smooth lock of hair behind her ear. “You’d think you could show at least a hint of gratitude for the lengths I go to protect you.”
“Protect me?” My voice went an octave higher in sheer disbelief at her words. “Protect me from what, Mother? Telling me what I am? Telling Monster what he is?” Anger pushed back the rolling nausea that consumed me as I straightened in my seat and I took in her pursed lips. “You’ve lied to me my entire life,” I accused, the words coming out in a hiss.
“I’ve protected you,” she countered, her gaze jerking to mine for the barest second and I could see she believed what she said.
“Ignorance isn’t protection,” I told her, my voice cutting sharper than a knife. “It’s just ignorance, which leads to bad decisions. LIKE KIDNAPPING YOUR DAUGHTER!”
“You don’t understand,” she shouted in frustration.
“Clearly, you don’t either,” I yelled back, equally frustrated as the sound of a steel guitar came to a painful pitch. “And turn that crap off!” I reached for the volume on the radio and she slapped my hand away.
