I paused and then nodded again.
“Fuck,” Darcy muttered.
“This is bad,” Rachel said.
“Very bad.” Darcy sighed. “I knew it was bad, but not cartel bad.”
“Is that where you were taken?” Allison asked quietly. “Mexico?”
“Yes.”
“Holy fuck,” Rachel stated, letting out a long breath. “I had—we—had no idea. They didn’t tell us that part.”
“This feels like my fault,” I said, bowing my head.
“Hey,” Mia said. “Look at me.”
I took a deep breath and lifted my head to peer at her.
“The Coeur d’Alene boys are here, which means this is first and foremost club business. You got caught up in some shit. This shouldn’t have happened to you, Linden. And their message has been received. Could have been any one of us. We don’t need the guys to point that out. So don’t you dare apologize for any of this. What they’re about to do needs to get done. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said with a shaky breath. I took a long drink of the cocktail Mia had made me and then glanced around at the Old Ladies who were smiling at me in compassion—not pity. Never pity with them.
“So,” I began, wanting to change the subject, “how rustic are these cabins?”
* * *
I screamed. My throat was raw with terror. Arms encompassed me and I fought against them, thrashing to escape their confinement.
Someone cursed.
Male.
My hand throbbed.
Why was it throbbing?
Oh, right.
Because someone had taken a mallet and a screwdriver to it.
I wept tears of fear and pain.
“Linden. Linden, wake up.”
My hand collided with flesh.
“Shit!”
Something crashed to the floor—it sounded like glass.
I turned my head and opened my eyes to darkness. Tears cascaded down my cheeks, and my neck was hot and feverish.
A light came on, banishing the cobwebs of my dream. The memory of blood cloyed at the back of my throat, and I desperately wanted to gulp water to rid myself of the pain and horror.
Boxer stood at the edge of the bed wearing nothing but a pair of navy briefs. His eyes were wide with concern.
“What happened?” I croaked, attempting to sit up.