Page 123 of Kept in the Dark

“I know, baby,”James says,“but you’re doing great. You’ve got this. Wes, you got her tracking info?”

“Looks like… south on Vine?”

“Yeah,”she confirms.“What’s going on? Who was that guy? What do they want with Nicole? Know what? Never mind. Just tell me you’re coming to get her.”There is censure and warning in her tone.

Fierce little creature. It nearly makes me smile, though I am far too angry. “Every man who touches her will die.”

There is a beat of silence. Wesley glances my way, lifting a brow.

“That’s what I’m fuckin’ talking about,”James approves.“All right, D. How do you want to play this?”

I check the location where Eleanor has stopped, feeling triumph bleeding into the edges of my panic. They are heading towards a rundown part of the city, currently undergoing a wave of gentrification.

“Scorched earth.”

“Uh…”with one word, James puts both Wesley and me on high alert. Gone is the breezy excitement, replaced with a tightness meant to hide panic.“Hey, baby, I’m gonna mute myself for a sec, but I’m right here, and I can still hear you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Code fucking red. I’ve got three SUVs heading your way.”

“Fuck!” Wesley curses, shaking his head. His fingers fly across the screen, and he moves back and forth between windows fast enough to make my head spin. One of the views is of an intersection a few kilometers away, and I can see the cars James flagged. Three identical, clean, shiny black cars with tinted windows driving in a line. They certainly give off the impression ofBratvamen coming to collect.

“We do not have time to wait for them to arrive,” I decide. We have to move. Every second Nicole spends with Kyle is a second her life is at risk. She is still in transit, but we are a long way from Eleanor’s tracking dot. They will certainly arrive at their destination long before we do.

“I do. I’m already in place here. You and Wes go, I’ll stay. They’ll never see me coming, and I’ll be long gone before they even realize where I am. I may not get ‘em all, but I’ll make as many of them pay as I fucking can. Now, go get our girls.”

39

Nicole

People really need to stop kidnapping me.

When I wake, I know instantly I am somewhere different.

Calm.

I have to stay calm.

In the U-Haul, once my brain caught up with what was happening and I felt the rumbling under my feet, I tried bracing myself, but that first abrupt shift from reverse to forward launched me face-first against the side of the truck. I hit my head against the hard metal, and it was lights out.

My head is pounding, and I can tell I’m sitting upright. A small, exploratory tensing of my arms confirms the sinking suspicion I got from the pressure at my wrists. Whatever is holding me in place wraps around my arms and my chest, and my ankles are bound together.

A whimper escapes my mouth when I crack an eyelid enough to see that I’m duct-taped to a chair in the middle of a half-finished hardwood floor near a stack of paint cans and dirty bins with brushes. The drywall is bare, and the spacious room is empty of furniture and decorations.

On the far side of the cavernous room, there’s a wall of windows displaying the tops of several nearby buildings and an awful lot of sky.

If I had to guess, I’d say I’m in a half-finished penthouse in a new construction apartment building. And since I’m not gagged, presumably no one is close enough to hear me scream.

I hear two men speaking in low tones, the indecipherable words flowing quickly. Spanish, I’m pretty sure. I look over and see a large, buff guy with his back to me, perched on a bar stool, facing another man who leans against the cavity where the fridge will go in the unfinished kitchen. I know almost instantly he’s the one in charge, though I’m not sure why. Maybe because he exudes a quiet kind of danger and authority. Maybe because he looks totally unbothered, listening to the man’s report while taking large bites of something beige from his hand.

No imminent danger there, so I continue glancing around furtively, trying to get my bearings.

It’s not just the three of us in here. Behind a closed door on the other side of the open space, there’s someone in the bedroom. I can hear a telltale, rapid, rhythmic squeaking noise and soft crying whimpers that sound feminine, but not the kind borne of pleasure. I wince, feeling utterly helpless, and shudder as bile climbs up the back of my throat.

This must be Kyle’s handiwork. I don’t see him, but there’s no other explanation. I’m not sure what kind of operation he’s running with Mexican guys, but no one else would have any reason to kidnap me. Those two definitely don’t—I’ve never seen them before in my life.

For a second, that sets in. I’ve been kidnapped. A-fucking-gain.