What was taking Zoey so long?
Eli pulled a set of zip ties from his pack and, pressing the man’s hands and feet together, hog-tied him. “What’s your name?” he asked.
The man said nothing.
“Don’t make me have to repeat myself.” Eli pulled the zip ties tight enough that they bit into the man’s wrists to act as a warning.
“You are the one standing in my living room. Don’t you think I should be asking the questions?” the man said, pulling against the restraints on his wrists in a feeble attempt to free himself.
“You know,” Eli said, moving to the couch and sitting, “I have yet to find myself in your position—hog-tied and forced into submission—but I think if I were you, the last thing I would be doing is acting like a smartass.”
“If I get my hands on you, you will get your chance to test your theory,” the man said, rolling to his side to face him.
“I highly doubt that,” Eli said, picking up the remote and changing the channel off the dating show. He flipped to the news.
The last thing he needed right now was to learn more about some woman’s dating preferences when he had more than enough relationship drama of his own to worry about. He had never really understood the allure of watching dating shows—they seemed fake and manipulated. But when he and Zoey had been together, he had sat through more than his fair share of them in order to make her happy.
That sacrifice, in hindsight, seemed far more real than anything a television show could come up with. For him, love was the little things...not some grand gesture.
There was the cacophony of firearms as the reporter spoke of an ongoing conflict somewhere else on the globe. Eli found that the sound was far more appealing than listening to the news. The sounds of gunfire definitely made him feel less on edge.
The guy at his feet sighed, like being on the floor was merely an annoyance instead of the life-threatening proposition Eli had intended. “Can I get you something to drink? How about a Coke?” Eli said sarcastically, motioning to the can on the table.
His inflection must’ve been lost on the man.
“Actually, that sounds good.” The man perked up.
“Yeah, right. You can want in one hand...” Eli snarled. “In case you forgot, I’m the one sitting here with the gun. Try giving me the information I need and maybe we can get out of here. Then you can go back to watching whatever that was.”
The man prickled, but Eli could see that he was trying to remain calm, though he clearly wanted to come up off the floor and deck him. “What exactly are you here for?” the man asked.
Eli wasn’t sure whether or not he should say anything to the man about their true reason for being here. By now, he knew they were looking for Chad—they had said as much. But if the man didn’t know about the contract out on Chad, Eli wasn’t about to tell him about it.
“How did you get brought into all of this?” Eli asked. He was the one asking the questions.
The man shifted slightly on the floor, trying to find a comfortable position while they danced around one another. “I’m just here to do a job.” The man paused. “You are Eli Wayne, right?”
Eli hated that the man knew who he was, and he had no idea who he was dealing with.
The man’s beanie was coming off, revealing a head of red hair, the ruddy color bordering on strawberry blond. The dude looked nothing like he had any Spanish ancestry. It didn’t mean he wasn’t from Spain, but that and his slight Spanish accent made Eli wonder if he’d come from somewhere else—maybe even Algeria.
“I’m glad my reputation precedes me,” Eli said, trying to sound far more confident than he was feeling.
He reminded himself that this man was his prisoner, not the other way around. The dude was trying to play head games with him. He couldn’t allow himself to get sucked into his nonsense.
“With a reputation like yours, it’s hard not to know about it,” his hostage said.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
So much for not pulled into his head games.
“That woman you came in with—I heard you got her pregnant...”
Eli’s hands clenched and the remote in his hand cracked under the pressure. “Unless you don’t want to make it out of here alive, I recommend you be real careful how you talk about her.”
The man snorted with derision. “I heard about how she kicked you to the curb.”
Who in the hell was this guy who seem to know so much about them?
Eli stood up and threw the remote on the couch. He couldn’t sit here and let this man get under his skin. They needed to get Chad and get the hell out of here.
Glancing over at the man, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere, Eli walked out into the hallway. Shaye was still passed out, her body tucked into the corner. They were going to need to do something about her if they stayed much longer. As he looked at her, she moved slightly as though she was starting to come around.
At the far end of the hall there was a door open, leading into a bedroom. The place was quiet and a wave of panic overtook him. Where was Zoey? She had said she was just going to get Chad. It’d been stupid of him to let her go by herself. He should’ve hog-tied that bastard sooner and come with her to find her brother. But as he chastised himself, he thought of the look Zoey had given him, that “I don’t need a man to keep me safe” expression.
She was strong, but that didn’t mean she didn’t need help. He tried to respect her boundaries and her desires, but no matter what she thought, everyone needed help sometimes.
He passed two closed doors as he made his way down the hall. Entering the bedroom, nothing appeared out of place. Where had she gone? He was tempted to call for her, but he stopped himself.
He moved to step back out into the hall when there was a creak in the floorboard behind him. He turned as the bedroom’s closet door swung open and a man stepped out. Eli reached for his gun, but as he moved, the man pointed a yellow Taser at his chest. Eli turned to run, hoping that he could get outside of the shooting distance of the Taser before the man had a chance to pull the trigger.
It was no use.
There was the pop of the gun, the spray of confetti, and the sharp pinch of the barbs of the Taser as they bore into the skin of his ass. It felt as if he had accidentally sat on a 110-volt line. Debilitating pain coursed through him, dropping him to his knees.
Click. Click. Click. The electric current flowed through him with each sound.
A strange cry that filled the air, an odd mix between mewing and a screech, the noise like a hurt animal.
Click. Click. Click.
With the second round of clicks, Eli realized the sound was actually coming from him.
As his crying stopped, he tried to rise to his knees and get away, but found himself completely incapacitated. Then there was another round of that terrifying noise.
He had forgotten how bad this hurt. He had gone through a round of training in which they had been forced to take a hit from a Taser, then receive a round of OC spray—aka pepper spray—and then complete an obstacle course. The OC spray was the worst. Once this Taser was done pulsing, it would be over. The effects of OC spray could last for hours.
Click. Click. Click.
He could feel his heart fluttering as the electric current pulsed through every muscle in his body.
Five seconds. It would last only five seconds.
How long had he been on the ground? He prayed for this to be over. It felt like it had been going on for hours.
Had his attacker struck him with another set of barbs?
Maybe this was it. This would be how he went out. Attacked by a faceless enemy while trying to help the love of his life.
He collapsed as the pulse of electricity stopped coursing through his system.
He sucked in a breath, finally able to control his breathing again.
His body was exhausted, and as he lay there on the floor and tried to regain control of his faculties, half wondering if he’d peed himself, he noticed a set of feet across the floor. From where he lay, he could see only the soles and the sides of the brown leather shoes, but he recognized them as Zoey’s.
Had she been shot with a Taser, too? Was she still alive?
He should have never let her go through the rest of the apartment alone. Why had he been so freaking stupid? Why didn’t he listen to that little voice in his head that had told him she needed him? Why?
He choked on his breath, coughing and sputtering as his body flamed back to life. He had to get up. He had to get to her. Though he may have made a mistake, he had a chance now to make it right. To get her out of here. To keep her alive.
“Zoey,” he called, his voice hoarse and raspy like he had taken the Taser barbs straight to the throat.
He moved to stand up, but as he struggled, there was the sound of footfalls from behind. Turning to look, he saw the quick brown flash of a man’s boot as it connected with his head near the temple. There was the crunch of steel on bone and he bit his tongue, tasting the copper-rich stickiness as his body recoiled from the impact.
As bad as the Taser had been, he wished it had been the current that struck him rather than the kick. He collapsed, reality bleeding away.