“Sure we are. I’m just worried,” I said quietly. “I’m sure if Lucas suddenly went missing, you’d be worried too.”
He nodded, a line between his brows. “I’d be devastated if anything happened to Lucas. He’s my rock.”
“Then you know how I feel.”
“I do. But if you’re looking for someone to blame, it isn’t me.” He held his empty shot glass up to the light. “Maxwell and I have certainly had our differences, but I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. I mean, sure, we’ve squabbled a bit, but as you well know, Maxwell isn’t an easy person to be around.”
“I find the opposite to be true. I love being around Max.”
“Yes, you do seem to,” he muttered, sounding mystified.
I glanced around the space, sizing up the room. There were no signs of a struggle. No tipped-over tables or blood spatter on the walls. If it weren’t for my gut telling me something was terribly wrong, even I might have thought I was making something out of nothing.
He tilted his head, his expression almost feline in nature. “You’re welcome to take a look around. If that will make you feel better?”
He was too damn cocky. If he had done something to Max, he seemed confident I wouldn’t find anything incriminating. This all seemed like a game to him, which irked me even more. He probably thought I’d decline searching his home out of politeness.
He was wrong.
“Uh, sure. If you don’t mind me looking around, then I will.”
His face twitched, but he forced a smile. “Be my guest.”
“Thanks.”
I began moving through the living room, anger and suspicion simmering in my gut. I had nothing to lose by searching his house. If he’d harmed Max, he was dead to me. Even if he hadn’t, losing his friendship was something I could live with.
Chapter Three
Maxwell
As the hours stretched, the bathroom situation became dire. I still held out hope that Royce would find me, but whether that was before or after I soiled myself, I wasn’t sure.
My earlier fear had eventually morphed into anger. I was fuming at the audacity of that quack River drugging me. Who did he think he was? What kind of a lunatic drugged a person’s drink? He had to be completely unhinged to think he could get away with this. Did he think once he was done questioning me, I’d just drop it? Didn’t he realize the second I was free, I’d go straight to the police?
Maybe he doesn’t plan on setting me free.
That was a chilling thought. Just a few hours ago, the very idea River would hurt me had seemed inconceivable. Apparently, that had been naive of me. After he’d tried to ruin me professionally, I’d thought him jealous and petty. I hadn’t realized he could also be violent.
The whole situation seemed so inconceivable. He’d gone to such lengths to drug and capture me. Had he found it amusing to set up my little prison? Surely he realized this wouldn’t turn out well for him? There was a very good possibility it wouldn’t turn out well for either of us. Was he truly capable of torturingme? Murdering me? Perhaps life in prison was worth it to him if he could get the answers he wanted.
Groaning, I stood and stretched, which made my full bladder twinge. I had a headache, and my muscles were sore. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in the little room. It felt like an eternity. Time moved slowly when you were being held hostage. I wanted to explore the room, but with my leg chained to the bed, that was impossible.
I squinted, trying to make out the size and shape of the room. There appeared to be a sliver of light poking through the far wall. I couldn’t tell if it was natural light or man-made. Feeling light-headed, I sat down again. I really hoped whatever drug he’d given me wouldn’t cause lasting health issues.
As my bladder twinged for the hundredth time, I grunted in pain. If I didn’t use the restroom soon, I’d have permanent bladder damage. With a sinking stomach, I accepted the fact I had to do something about the bathroom situation.
Feeling mortified, I grabbed one of the empty water bottles and stood on shaky legs. With a resigned sigh, I walked as far as the chain would allow. There was no light on in the room, but my eyes were beginning to adjust to the gloom. Biting my lip, I focused on trying to successfully get my urine inside the bottle. As a surgeon, I’d always had very steady hands, and that came in handy now. Once I’d completed the disgusting deed, I capped the bottle and set it on the ground as far from the bed as possible.
I returned to the bed and used some water from the second bottle to rinse my fingers, just in case. I’d have killed for some antibiotic soap and hot water. I lay down on the bed, relieved to have finally emptied my bladder.
My thoughts went to Royce. I wasn’t exactly sure how much time had passed. Was he worried about me? Had he gone over to River’s house by now? Was River sitting in jail? I loved the idea of that asshole in cuffs. Maybe he was in jail and that was why he was MIA. If Royce had arrested him, would he tell him where I was, or would he leave me here to rot?
Feeling drained from stress, I closed my eyes. They flicked open again when there was a rattling sound about five feet from me. I sat up, heart racing. A door opened, and light spilled into my little prison. The silhouette of a man stood in the doorway, and I immediately recognized River’s slender frame.
Frustration and anger instantly spiked, and I demanded, “How long do you intend to keep me here?” I hated that my voice wobbled, so I didn’t sound nearly as intimidating as I’d have liked.
“As long as it takes.” River stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
