“This is unbelievable. Read the rest of this.” Jackson hands me the note.
I continue reading, whispering under my breath. “While you’re reading this note, your car is being taken away. There’s enough food to last the weekend. See you Sunday around midday! PS: There’s no cell reception, and snipers have been placed around the perimeter should you decide to escape.”
“Pretty sure that last part is a joke,” Jackson says.
“Why do you think that?”
“Look who signed the note.”
“Hugs and kisses, Clancy, Wag-Wag, and Sammy.” I slap the note against my palm in frustration. “Motherfuckers.”
“We could walk?” Jackson suggests.
I shake my head. “It’s getting late. There’s nothing around for miles. And look up.”
Jackson groans when he sees the dark clouds overhead. “What are we going to do, then?”
“Go inside and pray they’ve supplied us with enough good food to survive this ordeal.”
“Ugh.” He sags and walks back into the house with me. “I hate that that’s our best option.”
“It’s not going to work,” I yell out through the open kitchen window, glancing at the ever-darkening sky.
Jackson is spinning in circles in the yard, his phone raised high above his head. “Unless you have something positive to say, zip it.”
“Okay. I’mpositiveit’s not going to work.”
He grunts but doesn’t give me the finger, so I take that as a good sign. He’s already done two laps of the house, stumbling around in an attempt to get a signal with no luck. He really is one stubborn fucker.
Or he really doesn’t want to spend the weekend with me. Yeah. It’s probably that.
I’m not entirely sure how I feel about our predicament either.
Part of me is already scheming up ways to get back at Wagner since my initial suspicion is that this was his idea.
Then again, I shouldn’t be fooled by Clancy’s charm. Lurking underneath those boyish features of his could be an evil, crazed mastermind because only someone seriously deranged could ever think trapping Jackson and me together like this was a good idea.
The only truly innocent party here is Sammy. As soon as we get released, I’m going to work on convincing Wagner to get him a cell phone. I’m sure the little dude would have warned his favorite uncle about an attempted hostage situation if he had the means.
There is another way of looking at this predicament, though, and that other part of me secretly welcomes the chance to spend some uninterrupted time with Jackson. Just under forty-eight uninterrupted hours, to be exact.
We’re either going to finally hash our shit out, or this sweet little cottage at the end of the street is going to be the scene of a double homicide. Too early to say which way it’ll go.
My head wants to have a conversation with Jackson and get everything out in the open so that we can stop playing these silly games, deal with what needs to be dealt with, and move the fuck on.
My heart is hoping that I can convince him to lower his walls and be willing to see if maybe this crazy thing between us could lead somewhere.
And my dick?
My dick wants to teach him a lesson in fucking manners, put that dirty mouth of his to good use, and spank his ass so hard he’ll be admiring my handprint days later.
He barges in through the back door.
“No luck?” I ask with a grin.
He bear-growls at me, then starts manically opening and closing every single cabinet door in the kitchen, getting his face in nice and close, like he’s searching for a needle. “Goddamn it,” he snarls, slamming the final door with full force.
“What are you doing?”
