“This isn’t a fucking hospital, Reynolds. I don’t give a shit if she has a concussion or not. Wake her the fuck up.”
Suddenly, something cold and wet hit her in the face and she opened her eyes, taking a shocked breath. Her head thumped. She tried to focus her gaze. Oh God, what had happened? Nausea bubbled in her stomach and turned her head to the side to vomit.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” a disgusted voice said as she stopped heaving. “Someone clean that fucking mess up. Christ, it fucking stinks in here now. Stupid, crippled bitch.”
She winced at that word even though she’d called herself that plenty of times. Zeke would beat her ass if he heard her say it.
Zeke. Panic filled her. Where was Zeke? Wasn’t she meant to be with Zeke? The last thing she remembered was driving to Sanctuary and then a car was driving too close behind them. And then they turned a corner and. . .
Oh shit. They crashed.
“Zeke!”
She slowly raised her head so she could look around. Her vision was blurred. Fuck. That wasn’t a good sign. She closed her eyes and took a few calming breaths. When she opened them again, her vision was clearer. Two men stood across from her. One was a fat frog with thinning hair and a gross, hairy mole on his lip. She knew who he was. She’d seen a photo of him.
Fergus Bartolli.
A huge, muscular man stood behind and to the right of him. Muscle.
Another guy was cleaning up the mess she’d just made, gagging to himself.
“Shut the fuck up, Reynolds,” Bartolli said.
“What am I doing here? Where’s Zeke?” She pulled at her arms, wanting to wipe the sweat from her forehead, but suddenly realized that her arms were tied behind her to the rungs of the chair. Okay, so her brain was moving a little sluggishly. Fuck, that meant she couldn’t reach the alarm on her necklace either.
Bartolli shrugged. “The muscle you were with? I don’t know. If someone came across the crash he might live. Otherwise, he’s probably bleeding out.”
Her breath caught and a low groan of pain erupted from her. It was her worst nightmare. She’d finally let him in and he was leaving her.
He’d promised he’d never leave me.
He’d keep his promise. She just had to have faith. He wouldn’t leave her. He’d fight for her. He loved her.
“Oh look, Dirk. Seems like she feels something for the muscle. Well, give us what we want and we’ll let you get back to him. Who knows? You might even be in time to save him.”
“What do you want? Reyes has the envelope. Hasn’t he contacted you?”
“Oh, we’ve heard from Reyes. He’s bringing the envelope. But that’s not what I really want. Do you know what I really want, Miss Jensen?” Bartolli asked in a slimy voice.
It hit her then.
“Keira,” she whispered.
“Very good,” he told her as though she was the star pupil in his class. “I want that bitch who stole what was mine. And your brother is hiding her from me.”
“He won’t give her up for me.”
“Really? That’s a shame since that would be signing your death warrant.”
She took in a breath. Shit. Fuck. She moved her head carefully, looking around, trying to figure out where she was. But she was trapped in a windowless room, and it seemed that the door was the only way out.
“Tell me, Miss Jensen. Where does your brother’s loyalty lie? With his poor, crippled sister or with that thieving whore? Let’s find out, shall we?”
He brought out his cell phone and held it to his ear. “Hello, Kent Jensen. . .no, just listen to me, I’m afraid I don’t have time to chat. I just called to tell you that I have someone that belongs to you and you have someone I want. If you want to see your sister again. Alive. You will get what I want. I’ll call you back in half an hour with instructions for an exchange.”
He seemed to listen for a moment. “All right.” He walked to her. “Your brother wants proof of life, talk into the phone.”
He placed the phone close to her ear. “Eden? Eden, are you there?” Kent asked frantically.