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But this has nothing to do with God, I remind myself. And I’m the only one who can get myself out of this situation.
So I squirm and kick, and while I can’t see a thing, I know there are at least four arms trying to control me. That doesn’t bode well, being outnumbered, but at least a couple bodies increase my chances of hitting someone in my effort to try to free myself.
I scrunch my toes up in my high-heel shoes so they don’t fall off, draw back, and kick one of my assailants as hard as I possibly can. I don’t know where my blow lands, but I am suddenly restrained by two fewer arms, and the sound of someone moaning comes from the floor below me.
Yes.
“Cut it out, bitch,” a voice growls in my ear. “You’re only making it worse.”
Worse? It can get worse?
He throws his arms around my upper body and lifts me from the floor, leaving my mouth uncovered.
I take advantage of this and scream. “Somebody help me!”
But no one does. No one. Which confuses me. The club is full of people, pretty much around the clock. Surely several people hear me. But no one comes to my aid, and in fact, I could swear I hear Gwen’s laughter floating down the hall toward me.
“Gwen? Gwen, is that you?” I cry.
Why isn’t she helping me? Why is nobody helping me?
Something doesn’t add up. Where is Hal, the bouncer? He rushed to my aid the first time John Doe went after me.
I twist again, hoping to slip out of my assailant’s hands, when I hear my dress rip.
Now, I’m getting angry. No one has the right to mess with me like this—
And then it dawns on me, at the same time the man dragging me down the hall speaks again. “Shut up, do you hear me? Shut up,” he hisses in my ear.
I know this voice. And it’s not creepy John Doe.
It might be Rowan. I’m not entirely sure. Maybe he’ll speak again.
But why would Rowan try to abduct me?
I just had drinks with him and his friends.
While I’m trying to think through who’s abducting me, why, and what I can possibly do about it, I’m half carried/half dragged like I weigh nothing I don’t know how far, when a door swings open. I don’t fall as much as I amthrowninto a room, landing on my hands and knees. One of my shoes falls off and I feel for it, but of course I can’t see anything and come up empty-handed.
“Stay where you are,” someone growls as I try to get to my feet. “And keep the bag on.”
I remain on my knees, assessing the thick, fluffy carpet beneath me as I grope for my missing shoe. I am clearly in one of the club’s rooms. Which one, though, I have no idea.
“Is… is that you, Rowan? What’s going on?” I ask quietly, hoping my tone will bring some calm to the situation.
I hear something rubbery crinkling and snapping from different ends of the room, and now it’s clear there are more than just the two of us in here.
But how many?
“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” I plead with a lame laugh, trying to keep things light. As if I’m not bothered by being abducted at my place of work on the way to Room 21 by someone orsomeoneswho put a black bag over my head? Like I’m cool with it all. Really. No big deal. Happens to me every day.
Not. Last I checked, this is not part of the deal.
Or is it?
“Gentlemen, I think we’ve stumbled onto something far more valuable than anything we expected,” another voice says.
Wait. Is that Max?
