Page 77 of Bear
Looking at this guy, I can only assume he wants to know if I’ve seen Elliot, but why doesn’t he just come out with it? He takes his time, wetting his lips and squeezing his eyes shut, and I sense the concealed asshole with the knife becoming more and more irritated at the interruption. This guy needs to get the fuck out of here before we’re both killed.
Finally, the big guy blurts out in a rough voice, “A girl was t-taken.” He pauses to clear his throat. “Do you know where?”
I study him, unsure what this masked dickhead wants me to do, but he told me not to speak, so I look out the window toward the pool house and hope this guy looks out the balcony windows. But he doesn’t.Oh, fuck. Oh, shit.He walks a few paces forward, coming close to the edge of the bed, intent on looking out the same window I am, and everything inside me flies apart. I flinch hard, on purpose, to get him to stop.
He—thank fuck—halts in his tracks, holding his hands up. “Not here to hurt you.” His gaze wanders out the window, then his eyes widen before they swing back to me. He rasps out roughly, “Thank you,” then spins on his heel and sprints from the room. His shout is probably heard throughout the house as he thunders down the steps. “Kingston! Archer! Out back!”
There’s quite a commotion downstairs, and when I shift like I’m going to get up from the window seat, the scary fuck with the knife emerges from his hiding place, shaking his head. “Don’t fucking move an inch. We wait.”
Shuddering there in my white nightie, I nod my understanding and attempt to take deep, slow breaths. I can’t let myself have a full-blown panic attack. Not now. I press my lips together and look out the window again, noting that there are three of them out there at the pool house door, including the one I recognize as Kingston.
As they break the door in, I simultaneously cry out. Something stuck me, and an odd, tingling sensation flows under the skin of my upper arm.No.I try to wrench it away, only to be forcefully removed from the window seat a second later. “Turn around, or I’ll gut you.”
At my sharp inhale, he slides his palms down the outside of my arms, and before I realize what he’s doing, secures both wrists in one hand. A moment later, he ties them behind my back with some sort of smooth, silky material.Maybe his tie?And then immediately after, he obscures my vision with a blindfold, adding the mask on top for good measure.
My heart sinks, not understanding what is happening or why. I’m relieved for a moment that he doesn’t gag me, but what he does is worse. He puts his arm around me, securing his hand over my mouth and nose, then shuffles me from the room.
I try to keep track of where we’re going, but I feel like this is some sadistic child’s game where the victim is spun around and around until they don’t know which end is up anymore. Or maybe it’s simply whatever he put in my arm. Some sort of drug, obviously, because I’m dizzy and out of it, completely disoriented. I don’t have any concept of where we are or where the hell he’s taking me. He picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder, and I bounce around as he jogs down a flight of stairs. This is like being in a nightmarish fun house, only without the fun part.
The sound of a latch being disengaged and the creak of a door sends my heart pounding even harder. I try to speak, but words won’t come out. More stairs. Up? Down? I can’t freaking tell.
Another door opens, and there’s a murmur of voices on the other side. My breathing is more erratic than ever as I’m set back on my feet and whirled around, which causes me to lose my sense of balance. Harsh, unforgiving hands grasp me by the arms just above my elbows. Sick dread curls around my spine as whispered words drift toward me.Oh, no. No, no, no. Where am I?My heart thumps out of control, pounding loudly in my ears.
The blindfold is removed a moment later, and I blink hard in the dimly candlelit room. My vision blurs but not so much that I can’t see the small group of men in black masks sitting in a semicircle, all eyes on me. My head is so foggy, I can’t focus. Everything spins. I might vomit from that sensation alone.
“Well, she’s not who we were expecting.”
“Yeah, but she grew up fucking good, didn’t she?”
TO BE CONTINUED…