Page 34

Mel

I floated through darkness, my mind swimming up through layers of cotton and fog. Something was wrong. My body felt heavy, disconnected, like I was trying to move through molasses. My eyelids weighed a thousand pounds each.

Where was I?

I forced my eyes open, blinking rapidly against the disorientation. Dark shapes slowly resolved into the interior of a car. I was in the back seat, my head resting awkwardly against the window. Outside, darkness had fallen, headlights from occasional passing cars briefly illuminating the interior before plunging it back into shadow.

Had I fallen asleep on the way back to Nova’s? Was I with Ethan? The last thing I remembered was going to buy coffee.

My heart sped up as I realized the silhouette behind the wheel wasn’t Ethan’s broad shoulders. The driver was slighter, his profile unfamiliar in the dim glow from the dashboard .

Until he turned slightly, and recognition slammed into me.

Tommy Fitzsimmons.

The guy I’d gone on two completely forgettable dates with six months ago. The one who kept texting me even though I never responded.

“Tommy?” My voice came out raspy, my throat painfully dry.

He jerked slightly, then his face split into a wide smile as he glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

“Hey, sleepyhead! You’re finally awake.” His voice was cheerful, as if this was completely normal. As if I should know why I was in his car. “How are you feeling?”

“I—” I tried to push myself upright, but my limbs weren’t cooperating. “What’s happening? Where are we?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that right now.” He waved a dismissive hand. “We’ve still got a ways to go. You should drink some water, though. There’s a bottle by your feet.”

I stared at him, trying to make sense of this bizarre situation. Why was I with Tommy? Where was Ethan? Where was my phone?

“Tommy.” I worked to keep my voice steady. “What’s going on? Why am I in your car?”

He laughed, the sound jarring in the quiet interior. “We’re on our road trip. Finally.”

Road trip? What was he talking about?

“I don’t—” I closed my eyes, fighting against rising panic. Stay calm. Think. “I don’t remember planning a road trip with you.”

“Well, it was kind of spur-of-the-moment,” he said lightly. “But you said yes! You were very enthusiastic.”

I definitely did not say yes to anything with Tommy Fitzsimmons. Something was very, very wrong here.

“Tommy, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” I tried again to sit up properly, and this time succeeded in at least getting myself upright. “Can you pull over?”

Tommy’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, but his voice remained light. “Hey, are you hungry? I packed some snacks.”

“Tommy.” My voice sharpened. “Pull over. Now.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay. So demanding. There’s a rest stop right up here.”

Relief hit me until I saw the rest stop was deserted, not another car in sight. Just a small building with restrooms and a couple of picnic tables, dimly lit by a single overhead lamp.

Tommy killed the engine and turned in his seat to beam at me. “Need to stretch your legs?”

I nodded, praying my legs would actually support me. “Yes. And I really need to make a call, Tommy. There’s been some kind of misunderstanding.”

“Sure thing!” He hopped out of the car and came around to my door, opening it with a flourish. “Here, let me help you. You might be a little unsteady.”

He held out his hand, and I took it, not because I wanted to but because my muscles really weren’t working properly. Whatever was happening, he was at least being civil. Once my head wasn’t so foggy, maybe I’d be able to figure out exactly where Tommy and I had had a communication breakdown.

“What’s wrong with me?” I asked as he helped me out of the car. “Why can’t I walk properly?”

“Just the medication.” He said it so casually, as if this was something I should know about. “Don’t worry. It’ll wear off soon.”

Medication? What medication?

I just wanted to go home. Right damn now. “Tommy, I need to call someone. Where’s my phone?”

“Oh, you don’t need that anymore. This is about getting away from everything, remember? That’s what you said you wanted.”

This was getting really creepy. I tried to take a few steps. “I just like to have my phone with me, in case there’s an emergency.”

He shook his head. “Being tethered to your phone is bad for you. Let’s just get some fresh air.”

I needed to run. I didn’t know where; I just knew I didn’t want to be here with Tommy. But as I turned, I felt his hand on my arm, then a sharp jab. A needle.

“What—” My vision immediately began to blur. “What did you do?”

“Shh, it’s okay.” His voice came from very far away. “You’ll understand soon.”

As darkness closed in, my gaze fell on the back seat. A single rose petal, deep red against the gray upholstery.

The roses. In my car. I’d sniffed them, then…

Everything went black.

I woke with a gasp, the memory of the needle in my arm still sharp.

This time, the disorientation didn’t last as long. Tommy. The car. The rest stop. The injection. It all flooded back, and with it came fear, cold and clarifying.

I’d been kidnapped. By Tommy Fitzsimmons, of all people.

I was no longer in a car. I was lying on a leather couch in what appeared to be some kind of upscale rustic cabin. Wooden walls, exposed beams overhead. Heavy drapes covered what I assumed were windows, allowing only slivers of light to filter through. The room was dim, lit by a single lamp in the corner that cast long shadows across the floor.

My heart pounded against my ribs. How long had I been unconscious? Hours? Days? Was anyone looking for me yet? The thought of Ethan sent a wave of longing through me so intense it was almost physical pain. Was he searching for me right now? Did he even know I was missing?

I pushed myself up to sitting. I strained my ears, trying to make sense of the sounds around me. There was an odd, rhythmic noise coming from outside—gentle, consistent, almost like…water lapping against something solid.

I stood carefully, steadying myself against the arm of the couch, fighting against the wave of dizziness that threatened to topple me. The floor beneath me seemed solid enough, not the rocking motion I’d expect if we were on water. Must be some kind of cabin near a lake or something.

There was no sign of Tommy. This was my chance. I needed to get out of here.

The wooden floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I moved toward one of the windows. I pulled back the edge of a heavy drape, revealing darkness outside. No lights, no visible landmarks, just blackness. Not helpful.

I moved quickly to the door, testing the handle. It turned easily in my hand, not locked. That was promising. Maybe I could just walk out, find help. Even if we were somewhere remote, I could run, hide until daylight, then find my way to civilization.

My heart raced as I eased the door open a crack, peering outside. Before I could make sense of what I was seeing, the door was pushed open wider from the outside.

Tommy stepped inside, carrying a tray with what looked like food and drinks—they were wrapped. He’d bought them somewhere nearby. That was the first good news I’d gotten.

His face lit up when he saw me standing there.

“You’re awake! Perfect timing. I got us some dinner.” He brushed past me, setting the tray on the small table. “How are you feeling? Better? The fresh air here is amazing, isn’t it? ”

I took several steps back, putting distance between us.

“Tommy, where are we?” I kept my voice steady, deliberately softening my tone into something unthreatening. I needed to keep him calm and as pliable as possible.

“My family’s boathouse,” he said proudly, as if this should impress me. “At a marina just off the New Orleans coast. Beautiful, isn’t it? Well, you can’t really see it in the dark, but in the morning…” He trailed off, smiling to himself.

New Orleans. Oh my God. We were hundreds of miles from where anyone would be looking for me. I fought to keep the panic from showing on my face.

“I don’t understand.” I kept my voice gentle, nonconfrontational. Years of soothing Nova’s tantrums had taught me how to handle volatile personalities. “Why am I here? Why did you bring me here?”

His smile faltered slightly as he arranged plates on the table. “You said you needed a break. I’m giving you one.”

“Tommy, while I appreciate you thinking of me, this isn’t what I meant.” I tried to infuse my voice with friendly confusion rather than accusation. One wrong move and who knew what he’d do. “I need to go home now.”

“Home?” He shook his head, disappointment clouding his features. “But this is just the beginning, Mel. I have so much more planned for you. For us .”

Ice slid down my spine at his words. More planned?

“Planned for us? What does that mean?” I kept my voice curious, interested, though every instinct screamed at me to run.

“You’ll see.” His eyes gleamed with excitement. “It’s going to be everything you’ve ever wanted. Everything you’ve dreamed about.”

I took another step back, calculating the distance to the door again. If I moved quickly enough… But then what? Where would I go in a strange marina in the middle of the night? And if he caught me trying to escape, would that finally trigger the violence that seemed to simmer beneath his friendly facade?

“Tommy, I think there’s been a serious misunderstanding.” I softened my voice further, adding a hint of apology. “I never asked for any of this.”

“But you did!” He moved toward me, gesturing enthusiastically. “That night in New Orleans, outside the club. You said you wished you could sail away from everything. That’s what I’m giving you, Mel. Freedom. From Nova, from the tour, from all of it.”

I stared at him, finally understanding. He’d fixated on a throwaway comment I’d made during a moment of frustration. A casual remark I’d completely forgotten making. How many other innocent comments had he collected, twisted into this bizarre fantasy?

“Tommy, I was speaking metaphorically.” I tried to sound gentle but clear. “I didn’t mean I literally wanted to?—”

“It’s perfect for you,” he interrupted, his voice rising with excitement. “When we went on our date, you said the thing you liked most about your job was traveling. I can give you that. And you won’t have to work for Nova anymore. I know you hate it.”

I needed to stay calm, to reason with him. The wrong response could push him over whatever edge he was teetering on.

I edged closer to the door, calculating my chances of making it outside before he could stop me. “Tommy, this isn’t what I want. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. But I need to go home. If you’ll just let me use a phone, I’ll get someone to come pick me up. We can forget this ever happened.”

His smile disappeared completely. “Who would you call? That security guy? Ethan?”

“Please,” I tried again, injecting warmth into my voice though it felt like speaking through broken glass, “this is just a misunderstanding. I appreciate that you were trying to do something nice, but this isn’t what I want.”

“You just need time,” he said, nodding to himself. “I understand. It’s a big change. But soon, you’ll see I’m right.”

How much time did I have? How long had I already been gone? Were Ethan and the Citadel guys looking for me? How would they even know where to start?

“No.” I abandoned gentleness for clarity, my voice hardening since being polite was getting me nowhere. “This isn’t a misunderstanding, Tommy, not anymore since I’ve told you I don’t want to be here. This is kidnapping. What are you going to do, keep me here forever? I’ll scream my head off the first chance I get.”

His face crumpled, hurt replacing the enthusiasm. “Why would you say that? After everything I’ve done for you?”

I took advantage of his momentary distraction, lunging for the door. If I could just get outside, find someone, anyone?—

My fingers had just closed around the handle when I felt Tommy’s hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. Fear erupted through me, hot and urgent. This was it. He was going to hurt me now.

“You can’t leave yet,” he said softly. “Not until you understand.”

I tried to push past him, panic overriding caution now. “Let me go, Tommy!”

“I can’t do that.” His expression was sorrowful as he reached into his pocket. “Not when we’re so close to having everything we’ve always wanted.”

I glimpsed the syringe in his hand and tried to twist away, but my movements were still sluggish from the previous dose.

“Tommy, please,” I begged, real tears springing to my eyes. “Please don’t do this.”

But it was too late. I felt the now-familiar sting of the needle in my arm .

“Soon,” Tommy promised as my vision began to darken once more, his voice fading as if from a great distance, “you’ll understand everything.”

And the world faded to black, carrying with it my desperate thoughts of Ethan, of Nova, of home. Would I ever see any of them again? Or would this boathouse in New Orleans be the last place I ever saw?