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It was one thing for me to insult the bar, this stranger hadno right. Suddenly, Stella’s didn’t feel so awful anymore. “You know what? It’s not much, but it’s mine. I work my ass off in this place and I deserve every cent I earn even if it’s not impressive to some thug who makes his living by ripping off other people.”
He took a step closer, then gripped my chin with his massive hand. His touch was rough and I could feel the callouses. This wasn’t someone who let others do his dirty work.
I closed my eyes. Shit. Of course I would end up talking back to a would-be kidnapper and end up getting my neck snapped.
If this was the end for me, I was going with dignity. I opened my eyes and stared defiantly at him. “Whatever your plans are, you’re going to fail.”
“I never fail.” He lifted his chin toward one of the other males and before I could turn to see what was happening, a cloth was pressed over my mouth and nose.
I struggled, kicking, screaming, trying to break free, but my eyelids grew heavy and everything went black.
ChapterEight
Morgan
My head feltlike my brain was trying to claw its way out of my skull. With a groan, I gripped the side of my head, pressing against the place where the worst of the pain presided as if it would help. Spoiler alert, it didn’t.
With a groan, I opened my eyes, squinting into the too bright light. My throat hurt and my tongue felt like it was too big for my mouth. When I tried to swallow, it was like there was no moisture for me to swallow with.
What the hell had I done last night? I didn’t remember having any tequila, and this definitely felt like a tequila response.
I blinked a few times, and the room finally came into focus. I dropped my hand from my aching head.
This wasn’t my room.
I stood up, and stars exploded in my vision, forcing me back to sitting. Nausea rolled through me and the pain in my head was near explosion levels. I had to close my eyes, wincing through the worst of it until I calmed myself down.
Carefully, I opened my eyes and took in the small bedroom. A single window with white lace curtains took up space on the wall directly across from me. The curtains did little to hide the bright sunshine outside, letting me know that it was likely midday.
I was sitting on a twin bed covered with a quilt that looked like something from another time. The fabric was yellowed with age, but the stitching was so carefully done, I got the sense that the blanket was kept out of love rather than necessity.
The headboard and footboard of the bed were carved pine, matching the small dresser and nightstand. Everything was simple, but clean. Well-cared for and had a hand-crafted rather than mass-produced look.
It was the opposite of all the furniture in my apartment. Everything I had was picked up on the rare trips to the nearest city at whatever mega-mart I managed a ride to.
I ran my fingertips over the wood, as if it might explain where I was and how I got here. What did I do last night? Had I gone home with someone else to get revenge on Owen?
Owen. The proposal. My dad’s empty house. Movie with Jasmine. Strangers in my bar.
Everything flooded back at once and I leaped from the bed, and took one step toward the door before the pain sent me to my knees.
I groaned. Or maybe I was crying. I wasn’t sure. There was no sound beyond the skull-splitting agony I was feeling. My hands pressed against the side of my head and I fought against the rising nausea as I lowered my forehead to my knees.
After a few deep breaths, the pain returned to a manageable level, but I knew it was going to flare if I so much as moved toward the door. Slowly, I lifted my face from my knees and managed to sit up, staring at the closed door.
What the fuck had they done to me that caused this kind of lingering after effect?
The doorknob turned and I only just prevented myself from shooting to my feet. There was no way I could fight in this condition so keeping the pain at a minimum was about all I could hope for.
A small female with long, shiny black hair and petite features stepped inside. She closed the door behind her. She was dressed in a black skirt, with black fishnets and chunky black combat boots. Silver chains clinked and glittered around her waist, looping and attaching to her skirt in a way that was probably a fashion choice and not actually holding anything up. Her black tee had an intricate pattern of skulls in a purple so dark, I almost missed them.
She crouched, locking her cat-eye lined blue eyes on mine. Black lipstick made her pursed lips stand out against her pale skin. “You’re awake.”
“I have…” I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my fingers to my forehead. I couldn’t even speak without causing myself immense pain.
“Oh, sorry, that’s my fault.” Fingers pressed into both my temples but the pain was so severe, I couldn’t pull my head away.
Something warm spread from her touch and the splitting agony eased, until it was a dull throbbing, then finally, nothing at all. I opened my eyes just as she pulled her hands away. The pain was totally gone. “What did you do?”
