I was only five minutes behind schedule when Jed and I parted ways with the promise of seeing each other later. Since Steel Mustang was closed on Mondays, and he wasn’t on dad duty, we planned on meeting back at my place as soon as I was done with work. I made the case that his house was better, but he countered by pointing out him staying the night required a lot less packing.
He wasn’t wrong, so I’d see him at my apartment at six o’clock.
My Monday turned out to be a typical one—just busier, since I spent my Sunday evening having sex rather than getting ahead on work. I barely had the chance to draft my resignation letter, which meant I’d have to polish it at some point before I found sleep so I could hand it in the next day.
But I wasn’t bothered by this.
In fact, nothing bothered me the entire day.
I was in the greatest mood, still buzzed from my Jed-high.
It was five-thirty when I left the office. I was walking across the parking lot, typing out a text for Jed, when an SUV screeched to a halt in front of me. I stopped short, irate at the carelessness of the driver, and then—the next thing I knew—I felt terror in the form of a gun pressed against my spine.
“You scream, and you’ll regret it,” he said, plucking my phone from my grasp.
The back passenger door opened, and a familiar face appeared. It was one of Rocco’s cronies. The scary one. Only, unlike the previous times I saw him, he was sporting a black eye—or what was probably a black eye a few days ago. I also noticed he had a splint on his wrist.
He didn’t look any happier to see me than I was to see him.
“Get in,” said the man at my back, increasing the pressure of the barrel against my spine.
“Okay, okay!” I muttered as I did what I was told.
As soon as I sat, the door closed after me, and the guy with the gun climbed into the front passenger seat. Relieved as I was to no longer have a weapon pointed at me, I was still shaking as we pulled out of the parking lot. I opened my mouth to ask where I was being taken, but I didn’t get a word out before I had a hood thrown over my head.
Thatwas an answer in and of itself.
This was really happening.Again.
At least I hadn’t been shoved into a trunk.
I hadn’t spoken to Alejo since the last time I was kidnapped, and no one had heard from him since he ransacked the house looking for cash. Bella was keeping tabs on him via Felix, so we knew he was alive—but this? This meant he was alive but still making stupidly selfish life choices. I couldn’t explain it any other way.
My mind raced as I sat there, speaking not a word. I wondered how I was going to get out of it this time—whateveritwas. I hadn’t even been warned or beckoned or whatever. The only thing that kept me marginally calm was the fact that Jed was expecting to see me in thirty minutes. He would know soon enough something was wrong. He would come for me. I knew he would.
The car ride lasted fifteen minutes, maybe longer. I knew we reached our destination when we stopped, and the driver cut the engine. I swiveled my head from side to side. While I couldn’t see anything, I was trying to listen for any sound that might have given me a clue as to where I was.
My door opened, and one of the guys took hold of my arm.
The sound of neighing horses hit my ears, and I frowned in confusion as I stumbled out of the SUV. From the smell of it, we weren’t in town or anywhere close.
I was escorted away from the vehicle and into a building. I could tell by the way the click of my heels changed once inside. Then I was shoved down onto a seat. I was on the verge of ripping the hood off my head when someone else did it for me. I looked around and realized I was seated in the middle of a horse stable.
“Alexia Torres.”
I jerked my gaze toward his voice, and there he was—Rocco, with a smug look on his face.
“Was the hood really necessary?”
I glanced to my right and saw an older, white male exiting one of the stalls. Unlike Rocco, he was dressed down in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt underneath a quarter-zip. He had a brush in his hand, the kind used to groom horses.
“Inside joke,” jeered Rocco, addressing the horse groomer.
“What is going on?” I asked, no longer able to hold my tongue. “What am I doing here? And who are you?”
“I thought we should have a chat,” he said nonchalantly, as if I hadn’t been brought wherever I was completely against my will. “I didn’t know Rocco would be so dramatic about it. I apologize for the hood.”
“The hood? You apologize for thehood?” I asked incredulously. “I had a gun to my back. That’s not dramatic, that’s insane! Who are you? What do you want?”
