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CHAPTER ONE
NAPOLEON
Highway noise didn’t usually bother me, but then, I never experienced it from the inside of a trunk. Road noise roared in my ears. My head swam as I inhaled more carbon monoxide than a body could cope with, and I swore I experienced roadkill firsthand every time it splattered the tires.
The car bumped along beneath my cheek, jolting and jarring me in every direction. Man, would the bruises form a pretty pattern come tomorrow. If I was there to see it. Exhaust became my constant companion. Whoever decided to bind me with duct tape had also been sweet enough to leave the trunk ajar. For breathing purposes? I wanted to take hope, but the distinct lack of movement and constant headache left me with one option:
Kill those motherfuckers the moment I got free.
Assuming I got free.
Who the fuck kidnaps the captain of a varsity ice hockey team? Though the answer to that was twofold: today’s game, and my father’s occasionally questionable business deals.
Light streamed through the small gap wedged open with something that poked me in the cheek. I sucked in enough air to clear my head, discarding that previous thought, and settled on the first option, mainly because it didn’t end with me dismembered and in a body bag.
Someone wanted to claim the dubious honor of kidnapping Napoleon ‘Crush’ Lancaster on game day.
I woke up stuffed into the small compartment and pondered that thought too many times over the last few hours, though it could have been minutes—my sense of time was all screwed up. That they–whoever the hell they were–considered my needto breathe oxygen, albeit air laced with toxic exhaust fumes, gave me hope that I wouldn’t be dumped off the edge of a cliff somewhere.
It took more than one man to lift the center and captain of the Rippton Hails Ice Hockey team as a dead weight.
Not because I’d been drunk at the time; hell, I had a game to play, but because the sick fuckers knocked me out to carry out their little trick.
Reason the nth why my head ached like a mother.
Shafts of light slipped through the tiny gap I sealed my mouth around to claim free air. The sun had risen, slanting light through the breach, and I was in a world of hurt for more than one reason.
We were early in the season, and I needed to get my ass back to Rippton U before I got kicked off the team, taking my dreams of a professional career with it. Like every student at Rippton U, I had enough money in my personal bank account that a hockey career wasn’t about the dollar signs or the need to see my face on a commercial selling overpriced water to kids with too much disposable income.
No, my love for the game was my passion. Had been my passion since I was six years old and got slapped in the face with a puck that sailed through the air and brought me my first tooth. But I scored my first goal that day too while I bled like an extra on a slasher flick and fucking loved it.
I thrashed about in the small space and managed to tenderize myself further and started to take stock for the first time, the tender spots outnumbering my ability to think clearly beyond the throbbing that pounded a staccato beat between my ears. I gritted my teeth and pushed up on my duct taped hands. Arching my back I shoved them against the roof of my cage, yelling my frustration when it didn’t budge.
Enough was enough, and I gave myself permission to lose my shit when some asshole kidnapped me and stuffed me in a small space.
It was a damn good thing that I had no claustrophobic tendencies. I just wouldn’t have a career if I didn’t get my ass back to Rippton soon.
I wouldn’t have a career.
Fuck me.
“You assholes stop the car! I’ll rip you a new one if we don’t stop this fucking charade now!” My voice cracked at the end of my roar, ending on a cough that consumed me. I’d do more than rip whoever I had to a new one when I got free. It made me feel better not to be a passive participant in my own abduction, though.
To my total and utter surprise, the car slowed. I slid to the back of the trunk then the other direction, my head thumping against the small wall that separated the hatch of the car and the back seat, and back toward the car’s exterior.
And we stopped.
Every inch of me needed to rant, to throw myself at the trunk lid, but I saved that unfurling energy for the fight coming my way. Flexing my fingers and toes, I urged as much circulation into my limbs as I possibly could. Pins and needles stung me, but I’d experienced worse pain, and besides, I could use it.
The lid of the trunk popped open. Light streamed in, obliterating my vision worse than the arena lights on game night. I blinked watering eyes that I couldn’t shield.
Hands grabbed at me. I thrashed frantically, one sense already useless. With my hands and feet restricted by the duct tape, I had little hope of actually doing significant damage.
What I wouldn’t give for a hockey stick and the freedom to swing it right now.
Disembodied hands hauled me out of the car and before my eyes could adjust to the indescribably cheery brightness that flared my vision out, some bastard punched me in the face.
I hit the dirt beneath my bare feet, grit scraping my cheek.
