I crack my eyes open once more to survey my right arm and leg, wincing at the nasty-looking scrapes on my arm under my rolled-up sleeve and the tears in my leggings showing the same kind of wounds there. “Yeah,” I say and reach up to touch the side of my face. I come away with blood, just like I thought I would. “I’m great. Couldn’t be better. I’ve basically trained my whole life for stuff like this.”
He chuckles, and it sounds as if I’ve drawn the sound from him reluctantly. “Can you send me your exact location again?”he asks.
“Oh, totally on that. No problem at all.” I do as he says, sending him my location from my phone.
“I’m six minutes away.”He hesitates, then says in a softer voice, “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you, Ari? I can if you want. I don’t mind.”
“Nah,” I deny, my voice starting to shake. “I feel pretty gross, actually. And I think I’m going to start crying. I don’t want you to hear that. It’s not very badass car jumper of me, you know?”
“You’re a badass car jumper no matter if you cry or not. I won’t think any less of you for crying after being kidnapped.”
Kidnapped. Hearing him say it makes it sound so real. So incredibly real that I almost acquiesce and let him listen to me sob.
But I don’t want to be that person, and I don’t like showinganyonewhen I break down.
“I’m fine,” I promise him. “Just, uh. Text me when you’re here, okay? Because I’m in an alley, and I doubt you can fit your car back here unless you’re capable of some sexy black magic that I don’t know about.”
“Oh, I’m capable of all kinds of black magic,” Cyril assures me. “But not the car shrinking kind.” He pauses. The sound of him driving in my ear is reassuring, and I let out a sigh. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Besides, we have to be down to like, five minutes by now, right? I can survive for five minutes.”
“Four and a half.” He lets out a long huff, then says, “Okay, Ari. If that’s what you want. I’ll be there really soon, so just…”he trails off. “Just don’t move.”
“And here I was going to go for another marathon through the city,” I say, right before hanging up on him. I drop my hand to my side, dragging my knees up, and lean my head back against the brick behind me that threatens to scrape my hair into tangles.
This isinsane. Literally, a fucking nightmare that I can’t believe I’ve gotten myself into. Who the hell getskidnappedby someone who does their best attempt at sounding like the mafia with that ‘taking you to my boss’ bullshit?
And how in the world am I going to protect myself from it happening again, of all things? I can’t live my life worried that every Uber I take will be a kidnapping one.
Without meaning to, I doze off against the brick, just barely, while the last twenty minutes play through my head over and over as I wait for Cyril.
“C’mon, Ari.” A hand tucks my hair back, simultaneously urging me to my feet. “This isn’t exactly a great alleyway for you to have parked yourself in.” Cyril sounds like he’s attempting a joke, and I open my eyes to look up at him sullenly.
“So sorry,” I drawl, pushing to my feet. My musclesache,and I hate that I all but stumble to his car while he keeps a hold of my elbow like he’s worried I’ll go right back down. Truth be told, I really might. “Next time, I’ll do my research. I’ll ask the inhabitants of each alley to present themselves and…” I trail off with a sigh. “My brain is kind of fried right now. Can we pretend I ended that beautifully?”
“Absolutely,” Cyril agrees, directing me to his car. I slide into the passenger seat, and he closes the door behind me, moving to the other side as I watch through narrowed eyes. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
Halfway through the question, I’m already shaking my head. “No sir. No hospital for me.” Taking a breath, I add. “Seriously. It’s just scrapes and cuts. I’m fine.”
He doesn’t say anything else, instead puts the car into drive and justgoes.
Frankly, I’m more than willing to drift off again. My adrenaline has come and gone, and I just want toexistin a quiet state while he drives, which Cyril doesn’t seem to mind me doing. I barely notice where he goes until finally, he pulls into a driveway and cuts the engine, prompting me to open my eyes.
They widen instantly at the row of three brick and stone townhouses that we’re parked outside of, in a much nicer area of Solen City than I’m accustomed to.
“Do youlive here?” I ask, looking from the secure metal gate to the well-manicured lawn.
“Everyone lives here,” Cyril replies. “I got this place when it became apparent my littlefamilyneeded more than scattered apartments throughout the city. Come on.” I get out and set my feet down on the cement driveway, following him towards the immaculate house on the far left. “This is my house, obviously,” he says, gesturing at the house we’re currently approaching. “Arlo and Ezra live there.” He points at the one in the middle. “They redid it, so it’s one house instead of an upstairs and downstairs apartment. Isaac lives on the bottom of the last one, and Ashe is his upstairs neighbor. Which I never hear the end of, but I’ve pretty much gone deaf to it.” He tosses me a half-grin and unlocks the door, ushering me inside.
“I know you’re tired,” he adds as I walk in and stand on a red and gold rug to look around the open room that holds all kinds of living room furniture, an open island leading into the kitchen, and anaquariumthe size of a car. “But. I need you to tell me what happened.” He crooks a finger and leads me, still dazed, to the kitchen island, where he pushes me onto a stool and goes to rummage around in the freezer.
“Yeah, umm. Okay,” I agree, pulling the package and my phone out of my pocket. Kevin has texted me three more times as well, and I quickly fire off that I’m fine and to please not call the cops. I hope he hasn’t, even though ithasbeen a while since he’s heard from me. “I didn’t get to deliver this, by the way,” I say, sliding it over to Cyril, who puts it on top of a cabinet with a shake of his head.
“I’m not worried about that.” He brings an ice pack and wet paper towels back to me and sits on the stool in front of me; looking like the world’s least prepared paramedic with the bandaids he slaps down on the marble island top. When I reach for the paper towels, he shakes his head and tears a couple of them off, balls them up, and gently cleans the blood off my cheek. “Just tell me what happened, okay?”
“I called an Uber a few minutes after you texted me,” I begin, wincing at the pain from the paper towels. “And my phone said it was at my apartment, so I went outside and there it was. Before you ask, itdidhave an Uber sticker on it and everything. So I got in, obviously.”
“Obviously.” He picks up my arm and turns it over, grimacing at the black asphalt mixed with blood on my skin. He starts to clean that as well and I hiss, not prepared for the acutestingof it.