As much as I tried to get away, the man only held me tighter. He picked me up, slinging me over his shoulder and walking me over to the chair. I kicked. I beat him against the back. I did everything I could to get out of his grasp. The freshly-mowed lawn was the last thing I’d smell. The impeccable concrete sculptures that surrounded this dumbass pool would be the last thing I ever saw. How long could I hold my breath? Would it be possible for me to get myself out? Maybe I had something sharp on me. Something that could cut through the--
“And down we go,” the man said.
I grunted. “Fuck.”
The man sat on top of me as he bound my wrists to the chair. Then he got up and wrestled with my legs as he tied them to the chair as well. The leather cut into my skin. I already felt my hands going numb as my ankles began to swell. I struggled against the bonds, anyway. I couldn't go out like this. There was no way in hell that was happening.
“If you keep struggling, they’ll only get tighter.”
The smooth voice caught my ear and I whipped my head up. I was ashamed of the frightened tears streaking down my cheeks. The man that had taken me from the parking lot went to stand off to the side with his hands clutched behind his back and his gun shining in the moonlight for my viewing pleasure. My eyes panned over to the man in the dark suit. The only thing with any color on him was his blood red tie.
And his dark green eyes.
He’s got Max’s eyes.
The man sighed. “Danika Young.”
He stood before me with his hands clasped in front of him like some disapproving parent. I couldn't read the expression on his face. But that was mostly because I couldn’t look away from his eyes.
It can’t be.
He tsked. “I must say, I expected more from my son. Especially when it came to his choice in… women.”
I blinked. “Your son?”
He grinned. “Yes. My son. I’m sure you know him. Max?”
Realization slammed into my gut, almost knocking the wind out of me.
Holy shit. The man who had orchestrated my kidnapping was Max’s father.
36
Max
I skidded into a gas station as dirt and dust kicked up behind me. It was the first place I’d seen that was open since I left the warehouse behind. I pushed the car door open and barreled inside, storming through the front doors. The bell above me dinged. People turned to look at me as if I were growing a third head. A couple of the women gasped. A man clutched what looked to be his daughter close to him. They all moved toward the back of the gas station, and it took me a second to remember why.
Because you look like you’ve got one foot in the grave, asshole.
“Sir?”
I turned my head toward the cashier.
“Phone. Now.”
She blinked. “I think you need an ambulance more than a phone.”
I strode for her. “Give me a phone. Now. It’s an emergency.”
Her eyes ran down my face. “Yeah. Obviously.”
“And a first aid kit, too. If you have them here.”
She pointed. “Down the first aisle.”
“I’ll tip you forty bucks if you go get it for me and leave your cell unlocked for me to use.”
She narrowed her eyes at me as the entire gas station fell silent. I held my breath, staring her down before she shrugged her shoulders. She slipped her phone out of her back pocket and tapped something along the screen. Then she tossed it to me.