Tori—
The bell above the door jangles when I step inside Deep End tattoo shop.
The floor tiles are black and white, and a couple of glass cases are in front of me.
They hold everything from tattoo care items to body jewelry.
The smell of ink and antiseptic hits my nose and soft music plays low in the background, but it doesn’t cover the buzz of a tattoo machine as an artist works on a man at his station.
A couple of customers mill about the lobby, looking at designs on the wall, and a man is ringing up another customer at the counter. I wait patiently until it's my turn.
When the woman ahead of me turns toward the door with her bag of care products, I step forward.
The man is burly and covered in ink, but he’s got soft brown eyes and a smile. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m looking for an artist named Gigi. Do you know of her or, more specifically, what shop she works out of?”
“Can’t say I do, but we’ve got talented artists right here. I could help you out with whatever design you want. I do good work.” He points at some photos behind the register.
“Yes, you do. Very nice.” I take in the art, trying to be polite. “It wasn’t to get a tattoo. I’m looking for a friend. I heard she worked here in San Jose somewhere.”
“What’s her name again?”
“Gigi Austin.”
“Sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Okay, thanks anyway.” I step outside. It’s almost nightfall.
That time of day when the sky turns a deep blue and the streetlights start coming on.
I’ve been to seven different shops with no luck.
Climbing in my car, I pick up my notepad and scratch off another shop from the list I made, then sigh. “Only twenty-two more to go.”
I shift into reverse and back out of the diagonal spot, then notice my gas light come on. “Damn it.” I hate getting gas at night. Maybe I have enough to make it home.
I roll to a red light and idle. It’s a nice night, and I crack my window open an inch.
The roar of a pack of Harleys carries on the breeze.
I check the street and my rearview mirror but can’t spot them anywhere.
The roar is thunderous and getting closer, but it echoes off the buildings, and I can’t tell which direction it's coming from.
Then movement at the next intersection catches my eyes, and I watch a pack of bikes fly across from left to right, hauling ass up the street.
There had to be at least four rows of them, and they were riding two abreast.
“Come on, light!” It finally changes, and I hit the gas, roaring to the next light, which changes to green as I get there.
I make the right turn to follow, but the little red glow of their taillights is already far down the road, and I know I’ll never catch up to them.
Still, I follow down the street, hoping maybe they’ll hit a red light.
It never happens. I was so close, damn it.
I don’t see any gas stations around and keep driving toward the interstate.
At the next light, a sport bike pulls alongside me with a lone rider. He’s dressed in riding gear and a full-face mask. He catches me looking and waves.
I smile and roll my window down.
He leans closer. “Hey, beautiful.”
He’s being all cute and flirty.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, doll.”
“Have you ever heard of the Evil Dead?”
He nods.
“Do you know where their clubhouse is?”
It’s hard to hear him through his helmet, but he nods again, and I think he says to follow him. He motions with his finger, pointing down the road. When the light turns green, he makes a ‘come on’ motion with one hand, so I get behind him and follow.
He rides several more blocks, then makes a turn and rides several more blocks. It’s dark in this area, except for the streetlights flashing past. I notice a set of headlights take the next turn with us.
He pulls to the side of the dark street and dismounts in the light of my headlights.
I roll my window down, but before I realize what he’s doing, he reaches in the window and unlocks my door, then yanks it open.
The vehicle that was behind me pulls alongside, and this guy fights to get my seatbelt off, then he and another guy manhandle me into the trunk of the other car.
The lid slams closed, and I’m in total darkness, terrified out of my mind.
They must have been following me. This biker wasn’t just randomly pulling up next to me. He targeted me. He was probably going to try to engage me whether I stared at him or not.
God, how could I be such a fool?
All I can think now is that they’re going to take me out in the woods and kill me, or maybe not only kill me. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself.
Maybe they only want my car. It’s a nice car. Maybe they’ll let me go somewhere.
I’m so scared, and like an idiot, I left my phone in the cup holder. They have my purse, my keys, my car, my phone. Everything. Including me.
I think of Rafe. I wish he was with me. He’d never let anything like this happen to me. But he has no clue. He can’t save me this time. I’m on my own.
The car moves again, and I also hear the sound of the sport bike moving with us.
I’m tossed around the trunk with every pothole, railroad track, and speed bump we go over.
I’ve heard you can get the trunk open with an emergency release, but I can’t find one, and I wonder if these guys removed it for exactly that reason.
We ride for a long, long time. I don’t have a watch, but it must be over an hour, maybe longer.
I think I hear a boat horn, like that of a small pleasure craft, and then it sounds like we’re going over a bridge.
We drive for miles again, and the entire time, that bike is right behind us.
Eventually, we slow and make a left turn, but the car stops. I hear what sounds like a heavy metal gate creaking open, and then the car pulls slowly forward.
When the car finally stops, and the lid pops open, I’m staring into the face of Connor and his two friends. T
he one still has his helmet on, but this time his visor is up, and I see his eyes. We’re in a large garage, but I think it’s to a home, not a business.
I’m lifted out of the trunk, and my hands are zip tied behind my back.
“Connor, what are you doing? You don’t have to do this.” My voice is shaky, and he mocks me.
“ Connor, you don’t have to do this.” Then he leans close. “Yeah, I do, bitch. Payback for your little biker friend. He’s gonna be sorry he ever met me.”
“We’re not together. I haven’t seen him in six weeks. Maybe more. Taking me will mean nothing to him. I swear it.”
“That’s why I have a backup plan.”
They manhandle me up some stairs and into a home. It’s a nice home, with high ceilings and a beautiful kitchen that we pass. I’m hustled through the living room and up an open set of stairs with an industrial railing.
On the mantle, I spot a wedding photo. The bride bears a striking resemblance to Connor.
I wonder if it’s his sister. I wonder where the owners of this home are.
This place has to be in the millions. Did he kill them?
They can’t be here, or he wouldn’t get away with this.
Maybe they’re out of town. Hell, maybe he does this all the time.
Maybe he did this with those other girls who wouldn’t press charges.
When we get to the top of the stairs, I’m taken down a hall and into a room.
It looks like a normal guest bedroom, but there’s a woman sitting on the floor against the wall. She’s not restrained, but it’s shocking just the same.
Fiona.
She makes a slight shake of her head, and I keep my mouth shut, pretending not to recognize her.
“What did you do, Connor? They’re going to kill you,” Fiona hisses.
“I’m gonna make that bastard pay, cutie pie,” he says, moving to stand over her, then he returns to me, where they’ve shoved me to sit on the bed.
“Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?
Did you think I wouldn’t figure out it was that damn guy working for your father?
Him and his fucking MC. They’re the motherfuckers who jumped me. ”
“Connor, please don’t do this,” I beg.
“Don’t bother trying to escape,” he barks. “Every door and window has a sensor. You open one, an alarm sounds.”
The three of them storm out of the room.
The moment they do, Fiona scrambles over to me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I’m so relieved they left without doing more to us. The thought has my eyes flicking up to hers. “Did they hurt you?”
She shakes her head, and I notice the bruise on her cheek. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Thank God.”
“I wish they hadn’t left the zip ties on you,” she murmurs. “There’s nothing here to cut them with. I’ve already searched the room and the attached bath.”
“Is he right about the sensors?” I ask.
She moves to a sliding glass door that leads out to a balcony and points to one. “Yep. Right there.”
“Did you try?”
“The first night. They were in here so fast.” She points to the bruise on her face. “Connor gave me that. So, who is this guy, and how does he know you and Rafe?”
I tell her the entire story.
“Shit.” She frowns. “Why aren’t you with my brother anymore?”
“He dumped me.”
“That’s not the story I heard from Kyle. He said you dumped Rafe. Said you haven’t answered a single text or call.”
“What?” I shake my head. “I haven’t gotten any. Not one. I swear. I’ve been trying to call him. He won’t answer me.”
“That’s weird.”
“So, what’s out those sliders?” I ask.
“There’s a boat dock, and I don’t know if it’s a river; it kind of looks like a man-made canal. I can’t see any other houses close by, and on the other side, it’s just farmland.”
“Is there a boat?” I ask.
“There’s a kayak. Come here.”
I move to the windows, and she shows me the dock. There are some little lights around it. She points.
“See there? The dark green one.”
It’s upside down on the decking next to the structure.
“If we can get to that, we could sneak away.”
“You don’t think the road—”
She shakes her head. “It’s too open. There’d be nowhere to hide. But, if we can get out, they probably would assume that’s the way we’d go. It might buy us enough time to make it downstream.”
“Which way?”
“That way.” She points to the right. “I’ve seen boats coming from that direction.”
“Yeah, but first we have to get out of here. How do we do that if an alarm is going to sound if a door or window opens?”
“I’ve thought of that. I’ve done nothing but think of that. We have these sensors at our house, but we don’t have any on the overhead garage doors, because my dad always locked them from the inside with a sliding bolt. Maybe, if we’re lucky, there won’t be any sensors on the ones here.”
“We have to get to the garage,” I say.
“They play video games until late. The latest time they’ve come to check on me has always been about 2am. We need to go about 3am.”
“I don’t have a watch.”
“There’s one on the nightstand.”
A wave of nausea sweeps over me. “I feel sick. I think I’m going to throw up.”
Fiona guides me to the bathroom and holds my hair back. Throwing up with my hands restrained behind my back makes it so much worse. When I’m done, she wipes my face. “Better?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Tori?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you be pregnant?”
My eyes widen, and my mouth drops open, and I try to count back in my head to when my last period was.
“I’m judging by that look on your face, the answer is yes.”
“Oh, my God. We’ve got to get out of here.”
She wraps her arms around me, and I sob into her shoulder. “If my plan doesn’t work, then we’ll figure something else out. I promise.”
At 3am, we sneak down the hall. There’s a game room on a second-floor loft, and we have to walk right past them to get to the stairs. All three of them are sound asleep, controllers still in their hands.
We go so slowly, and Fiona helps me down the stairs so I don’t trip and fall.
We slip through the kitchen, and she motions me behind the island, then points at the knife block, then my hands. I nod and turn, and she carefully slices through the zip tie.
The relief is instantaneous. Tingles shoot to my fingers, and I make a face.
Fiona puts her finger to her lips, probably terrified I’m going to moan and wake them. Then her eyes fall on a stack of mail, and she picks a utility bill up, folds it in half, and shoves it in her pocket.
We make our way to the door to the garage, but I point at the sensor, mouthing the word, fuck.
“We have to risk it,” Fiona whispers. “We push through the door, and we get out as fast as we can.”
I nod.
“You ready?” she whispers.
I nod again.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Connor growls from over the upstairs railing.
“Go. Go, go, go,” I hiss, pushing Fiona through the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Connor vault over the railing and land in the kitchen, his two friends scrambling down the stairs behind him. “Holy fuck.”
There are three steps into the garage, and I run down them. Fiona is already at the garage door, slamming the metal slide to unlock it and haul the whole thing up two feet, then she dives on the ground and rolls under it.
Looking back at me, she slaps the concrete. “Run, Tori.”
I make a dive for the opening, but Connor tackles my legs and yanks me backward. I slide on my stomach, the opening growing farther away.
“Run, Fiona!” I shout and see her feet disappear. I hope she makes it. She has to make it.
Connor has my legs in a wrestling hold when his friends race in behind him.
He points toward the garage door. “Go. The other one got away. Get her ass.”
One hauls the garage door open and then looks around. They pause.
“Which way?”
“She’s halfway down the road by now,” I yell, and it works. They both tear off toward the blacktop road and away from the water. Now I just have to keep Connor distracted. I fight for all I’m worth and manage to flip to my back. Then I punch him in the nuts.
His retaliation is quick, with a vicious punch to my face. I roll to my side, moaning as he clutches his crotch.
“You fucking bitch!” He kicks me, aiming for my stomach, but I shift in time, and take the blow on my hip.
He hauls me up by my hair and drags me to the room. This time he ties me to the bedpost, then stands over me.
“You better pray we find her or you’re going to suffer for it.”
When he slams out of the room, I look toward the sliders. The curtains are still drawn back how we left them, and I can see the boat dock. It’s shadowy, but I don’t see the kayak anymore.
Thank God. Please make it Fiona. You have to make it .