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“Morning, sunshine,” the first man calls to me a little louder. “Hope you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”
I don’t respond to him, instead focusing on my deep breathing.
“It’s rude to ignore us, sweetheart,” my kidnapper says. “We’re going to be stuck together for a while. The least you could do is be friendly.”
The two men laugh, but I just keep breathing slowly.
“Are you sure she’s awake?” my kidnapper asks the other man more quietly. “She looks like she’s still asleep to me.”
“I saw her hands move,” the other man responds, and I hear fabric scraping against cement. They’re getting up and walking over to me. I keep breathing in and out like it’s the most important thing in the world.
“She could have just been twitching in her sleep, dumbass,” my kidnapper says, much closer to me now.
“Even so, at least you know she’s not dead. He’d be pissed off if you killed her.”
“Shut up, idiot,” my kidnapper hisses. They sound like a real pair of geniuses. The first one has at least given away that there’s a leader in all of this. That gives me some hope that it isn’t the Reapers after all. I keep breathing,
One of them pokes my forearm hard. He can’t see me flinch at least, but I try not to react any other way. It’s better if they think I’m asleep. They’ll leave me alone, and maybe they’ll let more slip.
There’s an odd sensation as I feel something moving against my neck, and I realize, almost too late, that the men are removing my hood. I slam my eyes shut and continue my breathing, trying to position my head in a way that would look like I really am asleep.
“See?” my captor whispers. “She’s still out like a light.”
“Damn,” the first one says with disappointment. “I wanted to have some fun.”
“We’re not supposed to touch her,” my captor tells him, but there’s disappointment in his tone too. “She’s going to be a big payday for us, but if there’s a scratch on her, we’re not getting our money.”
“There are other ways to break her,” the first man responds, a sick hint in his voice. “Psychological scars are a lot harder to see.”
The men laugh as the bag goes back over my head. I open my eyes, but there’s still nothing to see. There’s not even a hint of light coming through. It’s impossible to tell where I am or even what time of day it is. I could have been here for hours, or mere minutes. I hear the two men walk toward another part of the room, then hear the sound of the door slamming shut. I listen hard for a moment, ensuring they’re both gone. Then and only then do I finally let the tears fall.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Bones has been calling me nonstop for the last fifteen minutes. He thinks something might have changed since we talked last, but I’m not a miracle worker. I can only imagine how panicked he must feel, but there’s nothing I can do to make his wait any better. It’s been twelve hours since Melissa was last seen, and Snake has been up all night searching for clues about her whereabouts. Whoever took her was smart enough not to be seen, that’s for sure.
I’m just about to answer and tell him as much when there’s a pounding on the front door. It’s an angry, loud, violent sound. Whoever wants in sounds like they’re going to break the door down if I don’t open it soon. I quickly walk over and open it, shocked when I see the man standing on the other side.
He’s disheveled and unshaven, his skin pale and his eyes red-rimmed. His tie is loose around his collar and his shirt is beyond wrinkled, but he still carries a certain air of authority. Mayor Prudent pushes past me into the house without being invited in and stomps around inside, looking frantically for something.
“Where is she?” he growls, turning on me and grabbing me by the collar.
I try to be a reasonable man under most circumstances, but having the mayor’s hands so close to my throat is enough to send me over the edge. I push him back and put my hands up, warning him to back off. He’s a few inches shorter than me, and clearly not in the prime shape of his life, but there’s something feral about him. He’s dangerous.
“Don’t test me,” he warns, his voice low and dangerous. “I know you have my daughter. Where the hell is she?”
Understanding dawns on me, and I have to applaud the man. Since he’s come into office, I’ve considered him to be little more than a figurehead. He always struck me as the kind of man who makes grand plans and lets someone else do the work. But as he stands in the hallway, sizing me up and ready for a fight, I see that he has a passion and fire that doesn’t come through on TV.
He also needs to back the hell up before I punch him in the face. He may have the power to shut down our operation, but he’s not going to barge into my home and start throwing accusations. I glance out the open door and don’t see any of his men following behind. He’s come here alone. Either very brave or very stupid.
“What exactly was your plan?” I ask him calmly and curiously. “This is a house full of armed bikers. What did you hope to accomplish?”
“Don’t be a smartass with me,” he shouts, pointing a finger in my face. “You took my daughter. It had to be you. I’ve been up all night trying to figure it out, and it finally clicked.”
I notice there’s a crumpled-up piece of paper in one of his fists, and I gesture for him to hand it to me. He slaps it in my hand, his face turning so red it’s almost purple.
“Forget what you wrote?” he mocks. “You can have it, it’s seared into my brain now.”
We have your daughter. Drop out of the race or she’s coming home in a body bag.
