Once her parents and younger brother went to bed, Willow Kensington was psyched to finally have the house to herself.
Her 18th birthday had just passed, and between the cake, cupcakes, and the “birthday ice cream” her boyfriend had taken her out for, she desperately needed to burn some calories before indulging in some late night television.
After changing into her work-out clothes, she briefly considered putting in an exercise video. Since it was unseasonably cool out for June, she opted to go for a run instead.
Putting on some upbeat music, she did a few basic warm-up exercises, rotated her ankles several times each way, and set off along her usual path in their little suburban neighborhood.
By the time she made it back home, Willow was beat. The front porch only had four steps, but her muscles burned as she took the last two. Tugging her ear buds out, she shoved them in the front pocket of her sweater, attempting to turn the doorknob, but found it locked. Weird. Her mom or Ashlynn must’ve gotten up for some reason and locked it, assuming she was upstairs in bed.
Reaching into the hanging planter, she felt around the soil until she retrieved the spare key, thankful that she didn’t have to wake anyone up.
A half hour later, clean and wearing comfy clothes, Willow felt like a new person. She was still thirsty though, so she ran back downstairs to get a bottle of water.
As she stood bent over, peering into the refrigerator, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end; her body tensed and she had the oddest sensation that someone was staring at her.
Straightening slowly, she glanced to the left—half expecting to see her brother creeping up on her—but nothing was there.
Shoulders slumping in relief, she reached into the refrigerator, grabbed her water, and closed the door.
Two strong arms closed around her from behind. The water slipped out of her hands as the man anchored her arms against her body. She opened her mouth to scream and a third gloved hand came from off to the side, roughly covering her mouth.
“Hold her still,” a male voice barked quietly.
“I’m trying, she’s fucking squirming,” the other one muttered, pulling her more roughly up against his body. “Christ, stop moving!”
Willow thrashed even more, her protests muffled as she continued to kick and yank her arms wildly, trying to break free, trying to call for help. Her heart slammed against her rib cage and she could scarcely draw a breath—either because she was panicking, or because the man’s hand had most of her nose covered. A bit frantically, she wondered if she was going to suffocate—if they were planning to kill her? Would they leave her body in the kitchen floor for her family to find the next morning?
The one barking the orders yanked her arm straight, holding her forearm firmly enough to bruise it, and warned the other man again to hold her still.
Then she saw the needle poised above the veins in her arm.
She attempted to scream again, just as uselessly as before since her mouth was still covered. Her horror grew as the other man got the needle ready.
“No,” she cried, incoherently. She tried to beg, to plead, to bargain, but they couldn’t make out anything she was trying to say. Tears welled up in her eyes as she kicked backward, managing to strike her captor in the shin several times, but it only resulted in him cussing at her and squeezing her until she was afraid her ribs might crack.
The needle slid into her vein and she could only watch as he pushed whatever it contained into her body.
A sob tore from her throat as the one holding her shifted her weight, and she nearly got an arm free.
Willow tried once more to plead with them, but they had already injected her, so if it wasn’t just to knock her out, it was too late anyway.
There was no time to think about it—no time to even consider that these terrifying moments might be her last. Suddenly every part of her body felt leaden, and everything went black.
As the light flickered overhead, Ethan Wilde shifted in the uncomfortable plastic seat at the dingy Laundromat, missing the comfort of his home more than ever.
Leaving his family for extended periods was always hard, but leaving with a one-month-old son at home had been damn near impossible.
He didn’t have a choice though. When his inside contact told him Delmonico’s crew had a spot open for a smart, trustworthy guy, he threw Ethan’s name into the hat.
Well, Jack’s name. His fake name was Jack.
Now that he had four people at home depending on him, he should probably start thinking about getting out of that particular line of work. Or at least sticking to safer jobs.
While he waited for his clothes to dry, he sauntered over to the bathroom.
Once inside, he took the opportunity to check his email. He hadn’t been able to check it for a while but he had a second phone on him in case he got a chance.
After 50 new emails loaded, he scrolled through, most of it inconsequential or irrelevant, given his current location. Only two emails marked urgent. He tapped the first one, a missing 14-year-old girl, Hispanic, there was a picture attached along with the last seen information, $5,000 reward. Couldn’t look for her while he was neck-deep in his current operation, but he’d keep an eye out. The chances of running across her were pretty slim, but the girl in the picture looked older than she was, so even though none of the girls back at Delmonico’s seemed 14, he could check it out.
The next urgent email was from the family of yet another missing girl, desperate to locate her and able to pay for extra eyes to look. That one was older, prettier—newly 18, light brown hair, gray eyes, 5’5” and 115 lbs, $10,000 reward on that one. He took a look at her photo, just on the off chance he stumbled across her, but that one he expected even less. Back at Delmonico’s, there were exactly zero beautiful white American girls. Too risky.
He didn’t want to risk respondin