Page 62 of Taken With Trouble

“Serena?” I aim the light in her direction.

But she’s gone.

She was just right here.

Someone took her. The realization hits me like a freight train.

My blood pumps faster. I should have listened and got her out the second she realized this was a trap. First my grandfather, now her. When will I stop putting the people around me in danger?

I shine my light over the ballroom, but it’s useless. Hundreds of other flashlights are moving around like crazy, turning the place into a raging club. I can’t see anything.

I curse, then turn, instinctively heading for the back exit—the one they would use.

I’m so focused on finding Serena I don’t see the man until it’s too late. Something sharp hits my neck, and my body goes numb.

This just went from bad to worse.

The first thing I register when I come to is that I’m on a boat. The dark tossing cabin attests to that. The second thing is that my satchel is gone. I’ve lost the one thing that could get my grandfather back. I pinch my eyes closed, willing this to be a dream. But when I reopen them, my fate remains the same.

Wait… there’s something familiar about this boat. I blink, trying to place it. Toolboxes, some fishing equipment, a surfboard, and…a life ring with the initials LH.

This ismyboat. Those imbeciles pilfered my yacht! How dare they!

I’m in the storage room I’ve barely stepped foot in for years. Which means it’s also useless to me right now.

I never hid a weapon down here. Obvious oversight.

My hands and feet are tied together so tight my fingers and toes are numb.

I wiggle around, trying to locate a way out or a knife of any kind and accidentally kick a stray can. Whoever is in charge of cleaning this place is getting a pay cut.

“Liam?” A voice finds me in the dark.

“Serena?” My heart rises and falls simultaneously. She’s here. But she shouldn’t be. I force myself to breathe and focus on finding her. “Where are you?”

“Over here,” she says, a barely discernible wobble to her voice. Serena doesn’t get scared; she doesn’t cry, and that tiny wobble sends my heart lurching toward her. To protect her, to take this nightmare away. This is all my fault.

“Keep talking, I’ll find you,” I say, scooting toward the sound of her voice.

“I’m tied to this pole. Go around the big box looking thing.”

“It’s a generator.”

“How do you know?” I don’t answer and she must put two and two together. “This is your boat?”

“Technically, it’s a yacht.”

She chuckles… Or is it a cry? I move faster.

Every movement makes the rope dig tighter into my wrists, but I don’t stop. I wiggle and squirm until I see her. A square of moonlight hits her face, lighting her beautiful frame marred by her wild hair and a streak of lipstick across her cheek. Her dress is so ripped it’s barely hanging onto her shoulders and the slit is nearly to her hip.

“Did they hurt you?” I growl, finally making it to her.

“No,” she says, her voice barely audible now, “but they will.”

“Hey.” I grab her tied hands, cradling them in mine. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. It’s me they’re after. I’ll convince them to let you go.”

She shakes her head into my chest. “They won’t.”