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My every instinct told me to bite his finger. My dad had taught me that biting off a human finger required the same amount of force as biting a carrot, and right about then I wanted to put the theory to the test. But my throat was so dry it burned when I breathed. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until that moment.
He poured the water into my mouth and I gulped eagerly, swallowing every drop until it ran down my chin. The guy was strangely gentle with me, and whatever cologne he was wearing smelledgood. It made me tingle while he cupped my chin and poured the remainder of the water into my parched mouth. Despite the situation, my body came alive as I inhaled his scent.
Shut up, vagina. I’m kind of busy right now.
Mr. Green tossed the empty water bottle aside. My mind was starting to feel less cloudy than before.
Okay, so I had been kidnapped. But why? I was just an aspiring actor. I waited tables. My family didn’t have money—my dad was a retired Marine, and lived off his pension. Kidnapping me madezero sense. It’s not like I was someone famous like…
Amirah Pratt.
I had been confused for her last night. These guys must think I’m her. That was the only explanation that made sense.
“You’re making a mistake,” I said. Speaking was much easier after drinking water. “I’m not Amirah Pratt. I just look like her.”
As soon as I said so, I regretted it. If they thought I was Amirah Pratt, they were probably trying to ransom me. Once they learned I was a nobody, they might just kill me—like Mr. Blue had suggested.
But the three men looked at each other and laughed.
“We know who you are, Heather,” Mr. Green said.
“Although we can see why someone might confuse you with her,” Mr. Pink added dryly.
Oh. So much for that theory.
Mr. Green looked down at me. “You’re Heather Hart, originally from Tyler, Texas. You’ve lived in Los Angeles for three years. We know all about you and your background. What wedon’tknow is who you work for. Tell us that, and we’ll let you go.”
I blinked in confusion. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I work for Outback Steakhouse,” I said slowly. “The one on South Harbor Boulevard, by Disney.”
Mr. Pink shook his head and looked away. I couldn’t tell thanks to the mask, but it looked like Mr. Green was scowling at me.
“We know that’s your cover. Who do youreallywork for?”
“What do you mean? That’s the only job I have.”
“Don’t play dumb with us,” Mr. Green said.
“Then don’t ask dumb questions!” I shot back. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to tell you. I work for Outback Steakhouse.”
“You only work there three or four nights a week,” Mr. Green said.
“Because they keep me under thirty hours a week,” I replied acidly. “That way they don’t have to give me benefits. But I can’t get a second job because my shift varies from week to week. It’s bullshit.”
“Thatisbullshit,” Mr. Pink agreed. Mr. Green gave him a glare.
“There, I answered your question,” I said. “Can I go, now?”
Mr. Green’s fist tightened. “You can go when you tell me who youreallywork for.”
I responded slowly and enunciated every word as if I was speaking to someone who was hard of hearing. “Out-back Steak-house. Bloo-min’ On-ion. Do you speak English?”
Mr. Green sighed and pinched his nose through the ski mask. “I liked you better when you were calling me names.”
“I can go back to that,cuntbucket.”
