Heat surges between my thighs. I squeeze them together and swallow back a moan. Now isn’t the time to get excited, but if I’m thinking about sex, then I’m not fretting about abductors.
My muscles relax, creating a little more slack and loosening the ropes. Congratulating myself for holding my breath and struggling as the bastard tied me up, I rotate my wrists back and forth.
The ropes loosen a little further, and I continue the movement until there’s enough leeway to make a twisting motion. Veer groans, sounding like he’s in pain, and I quicken my movements.
As soon as I’ve freed one hand, I work at the knot around my neck and loosen the rope. The fabric the abductors used as a hood turns out to be an oversized sweatshirt that they knotted at the top. I toss it aside and analyze my surroundings.
It’s dark in the back of the van with tiny streams of light coming in from gaps in the back door. There’s no sign of my bag or the phone that was in it, but Veer lies behind me, his wrists secured with metal handcuffs.
I grimace. This is going to be tricky.
“Veer.” I crawl over to the bound boy.
He stiffens.
“Hey.” I place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s Phoenix. I’m going to get you free.”
He releases a string of muffled sounds, but I don’t understand a word. I roll him onto his front and work on the rope they tied around his neck. These knots are tighter, more intricate, and it looks like the thug who secured him had a bit more experience than the one who did mine.
The van drives over a pothole, jostling us both. I fall forward, landing hard on Veer’s ribs.
His pained moan grates across my heartstrings.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “This hood is trickier than I thought.”
A shudder travels down his body, which begins to convulse. I don’t know if this is something physically serious or a full-blown panic attack.
Of course he’s freaking out. He can’t see anything, he can’t move, and if that gag is as thorough as I imagine, he probably can’t breathe.
Leaning back on my haunches, I fumble through my hair and pull out a pin. Maybe I’ll have better luck with an instrument than with my fingers because the visibility back here is shit.
“Veer,” I whisper. “We’ll get through this.”
He releases a pained groan.
“I know.” I rub a gentle circle over his shoulder.
The van turns a fast corner, making us both roll to the other side of its interior. I hold onto the pin like it’s the only thing separating us from life and death, and wait for the driver to continue down a straight stretch of road.
Eventually, the van steadies, and I rise up on my knees.
“You okay?” I ask.
The groan he gives me is non-committal, which is an upgrade from panic. It takes several tries, but eventually, I loosen the knot enough to create a tiny gap.
I pull the fabric hood off his head, only to find a leather band that wraps around the base of his skull. My fingers fumble over a trio of buckles, and I finally release the gag.
“Help!” Veer screams.
“Stop that.” I clap a hand over his drooling mouth and grimace.
He struggles, trying to break free, but I hang onto him like a desperate koala.
“Think this through,” I hiss. “The van is speeding through the backstreets on a Sunday morning, and everyone’s either asleep, at church or too busy to listen out for muffled voices. Everyone except our abductors.”
Veer stills.
“Furthermore,” I say, channeling Professor Segul, “If they know I’m trying to free you, they’ll stop the van and kill me.”