“Hmm.” Mick looks me over, watching me and my brothers. “You need a decoy.”
“What kind of decoy?” Mitch responds, looking at what I assume he thinks is his boss, seriously.
Mick grins. “Why a distraction, hero. A very good distraction.”
41
felicity
You knowwhat I didn’t have on my bingo card for this year? Being drugged and then kidnapped at four months postpartum.
The room I am in is in some log cabin house. I’m not sure where I am, but based on the window in the cabin, I am guessing not that far from home.
Jax’s dad.
I don’t know what I was thinking, walking through town alone without Ezra, whom I’m certain if he knew what was going on, would flip his lid. I guess with all the excitement of becoming a mom, raising a baby, preparing for an album release and a tour, I didn’t take into consideration that Jax’s dad was still pissed.
When he told me everything after Law was born, my brain filed that as completed. Like, it was Jax telling me he put his father in his place, and the trouble was over.
What I didn’t consider is the fact his father is after money, and what better way to get it than kidnapping a very famous and wealthy musician?
Someone knocks on the door, and I raise an eyebrow. I am currently tied with actual rope—which I found funny considering duct tape is so much more convenient—to a chair that is tied to the bed.
“Oh, don’t come in. I’m not decent,” I reply to the knock sarcastically.
I honestly am terrified of what his father is willing to do to me, but humor keeps me comforted in the darkest of times, and all I want is to survive this and get home to my son.
A head pops in, a frown on his face, and I blink, trying to connect who the heck this could be.
“Uh, sorry. I brought food.” He comes in, a grocery bag in his hand. He is tall, blond, and lanky, with a nervous twitch to him that I found is often associated with too many drugs.
Who is this kid? Is he in on this with Jax’s father? Is he just a kid who got caught up in the drug world like Jax nearly had?
“Thanks.” I shrug my shoulders, wiggling my hands. “I can’t exactly eat it, though.”
He hesitates for a moment, looking back over his shoulder to where I hear loud laughter and the smell of weed drifting in. “Just for a minute.”
Then he comes over and unties my hands, looking at me like I am about to bolt. I wouldn’t. Not yet. I need some sort of plan first.
“Here, crackers, cheese, uh…” He pulls out a can of olives and then realizes his mistake. “I guess this won’t really work.”
“Crackers are good. Do you have water?” I ask, my throat parched.
“Oh, yeah,” he says, grabbing the last item out of the bag. He sits on a bench against the wall after handing me the items and lets me have at it. I take a long sip of the water.
I eye him as I pretend to fiddle with the food. “So, what’s the plan here?”
He looks back at me, shocked, I think, that I am conversing with him. “Uh, what do you mean?”
I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “I mean, you all took me.” I see him flinch. “I assume a ransom has been demanded.”
He holds up a hand. “I honestly didn’t even know what was going on until we got here.”
“That doesn’t exactly mean you’re innocent.”
“I didn’t know they were kidnapping someone!” The guy seems to grow more agitated, and I wonder exactly who he is to Keith Cash. “I never would have gone along with that. I’ve tried telling them that they need to let you go, but they won’t. Keith is strapped. Tried too much of his own product. Now he has nothing.”
I look at him. There is sweat on his brow, and his hands are rubbing nervously along his jeans. “Why are you here?”
