Chapter Thirty-Three

I came to with an aching head. I was bound, gagged, and blindfolded.

Shit, was my first thought, and my second was, How many times in a week can one girl get kidnapped? This is getting ridiculous.

Then panic set in like a reflex.

I screamed as long and hard as I could against the fabric in my mouth. All that came out was thick sound that didn’t carry past my own body. I inhaled deeply through my nose and tried again. It was at least as ineffective, and it made me choke and cough, too. I wanted to try a third time.

But I might throw up if I do.

The futility of my situation made me want to pound my fists against something. But of course, they were tied behind my back, and I was stuck in a chair.

I tried to spit out the gag. I used my tongue to push on it, and my teeth to loosen it. The effort made me sweat, and after a minute or less, my whole mouth ached.

But it’s looser, I told myself as I took a rest. It really is.

I tried to focus my other senses on my surroundings. The air smelled damp, and if my efforts hadn’t made me heat up, I probably would’ve actually found it quite cool.

A basement? Or a cellar?

I went back to work on the gag. It was giving way, at least a bit. I chewed harder on the cloth, and it split open suddenly.

“Ha!” I said triumphantly.

My voice echoed a bit, and I decided I must be somewhere bigger than a cellar. A low groan came from somewhere else in the room, and I froze. The groan came again.

“Hello?” I called quietly.

For a second, there was no response.

“Ugh.” It was a croaked reply, but definitely a human one.

“Who’s there?” I whispered.

“I don’t feel so hot.”

I gasped at the sound of the familiar voice. “Blair?!”

“Cass?” she groaned. “Where the fuck are we?”

A hysterical giggle escaped my lips. “Oh, thank God. You’re alive.”

“Sort of alive,” my friend corrected. “But I’ve got a very bad taste in my mouth. And my head fees like it’s stuffed with fluff.”

“Ether,” I muttered.

“Huh?”

“That’s how I felt after I got dosed with it at the club,” I explained, then frowned.

But Monato is dead.

“You got ethered? I thought someone slipped something in your drink.”

I sighed. “I wasn’t being entirely honest.”

“No shit.”

“I’m sorry, Blair.”

“That you lied? Or that you got me kidnapped?” my friend asked.

“Both,” I replied. “But John told me he killed the guy who drugged me.”

“He did what?!”

“I just don’t understand who’s kidnapped us if Monato is dead,” I said, ignoring my friend’s shock.

“Well, maybe—no scratch that—hopefully your new boyfriend lied about killing him,” Blair replied. “And I’m not even sure which is worse.”

I frowned even harder, thinking of John’s face as he confessed that the creepy man had been taken care of. His expression had been tired. Maybe just a touch satisfied. And more than a bit regretful. But nothing about his demeanour had made me think he was being deceptive.

“John was telling the truth,” I told my friend. “I’m sure of it.”

“So then whoever kidnapped us…He and John are what? In cahoots?” Blair asked.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I tried to imagine John describing his relationship with his business associates as being “in cahoots.” I laughed harder.

“I’ve missed you,” I said between giggles.

“Save the lovey-dovey crap for when we’ve escaped,” Blair suggested. “Or for your kidnapper boyfriend.”

I sobered up immediately.

“This wasn’t him,” I insisted.

“You can’t be sure of anything. And if the Monato guy is dead…” She trailed off and I could hear the doubt in her voice.

“I know,” I replied. “I don’t get it either. But I’m sure John wouldn’t bother kidnapping me.”

My friend drew in a breath, and I knew she wasn’t going to let it go.

“But—”

I cut her off, and my face went red as I spoke. “If John wanted me, he could’ve had me, Blair. He wouldn’t have needed to kidnap me.”

My friend made a sudden and gleeful noise. I rolled my eyes. Leave it to her to be in the most terrifying situation of her life and yet still find a reason to squeal like a teenaged groupie.

“I knew it,” she said. “I heard it in your voice from the beginning!”

“Forget it,” I replied. “He made it clear he wanted me gone.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I said the words. There was some shuffling from Blair’s corner, and suddenly her hands were on my knees and her face was pressed against mine.

“Are you blindfolded?” she asked, and yanked the cloth down.

“Blair!” I yelled.

“Are you sure he meant it?” she asked.

“Blair!” I repeated even more loudly. “You’re not tied up!”

“You are?” She sounded puzzled.

“I’m not sitting in this chair for my health,” I told her.

“He probably didn’t really mean it,” she said.

“Why aren’t you tied up?” I muttered.

“They probably thought I was dead.”

“Why would they think that?”

“Well… They did shoot me. By accident, I think.”

“What?!”

“When I was halfway passed out,” she explained. “I heard the shot and some screaming. I swear, they only hit my ear. But there might’ve been some blood.”

My stomach churned. “My God.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“You’re not…Never mind. Blair…Untie me!”

She started yanking on the ropes, chattering about men and their mixed messages. I gritted my teeth and ignored her as I ran through the facts of our situation. I wasn’t naive enough to believe our kidnapping was a coincidence. And in spite of John’s angry dismissal, I really didn’t believe he’d been lying about Monato’s death. He had no reason to.

“And he wouldn’t have let me leave—not like that—if he thought I was still in danger,” I muttered out loud.

Blair paused in her rambling. “Why did he kick you out?”

“I don’t know. We were…involved,” I said with a red face. “And then…”

“And then what?”

I frowned. “And then I think he saw my tattoo.”

“So what? He hated it?” Blair asked.

“I don’t know.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” my friend said. “I saw his arms. He’s covered in them.”

I agreed, but I didn’t really have any other explanation.

“You’re free, by the way,” Blair announced.

I stretched my arms and my legs and breathed a big sigh of relief. I glanced around the room. It was dark, windowless, and had a packed-dirt floor. It was hard to see, but I guessed it wasn’t a basement. At least not one under a house.

“Where are we?” I wondered out loud.

“I don’t know,” Blair replied. “But I see some stairs. And a door. So I say let’s go!”