As my mind clears, it all comes back in a rush. Heavy footsteps in the hall. A crash. A curse. A sudden cloth over my face, a strange smell, and then… nothing.
I've been kidnapped.
Oh God.
Kidnapped.
“Wild Child! Jesus, watch the turns!” snaps a deep voice behind me, making me jump and let out a little whimper before I can help myself. The surge in my gut tells me I'm sitting backwards. On metal, not in a car seat. Back of a van, maybe? That would put the voice in the front seat.
“What, are you getting too old?” asks a second voice. There's laughter in it, aggressively playful.
“Fuck off.”
My squirrel brain spins, running in circles while I try to calm it. I can't panic. Right now, they're not paying attention to me, and maybe I can use that, but my chest is so tight it's a wonder I'm still breathing, or that my heart has space to beat, which it's doing very, very fast.
So fast.
But I force myself to think, because if I don't, I'm screwed. I yank the ropes, looking for weakness.
A third voice, right in front of me, makes me nearly jump out of my pajamas. It's a low growl, like a bear who just found me standing in its favorite berry patch. “Give it up. King knows his knots, and even if he didn't, I'm right here.”
There are at least three of them, then. And I'm only me. And now they know I'm awake.
That's it. There isn't enough air for me to draw, but I gasp for it. My throat closes and I swallow frantically to open it back up. Balling my fists, I dig my nails into my palms to distract myself.
Don't panic, Emily.
Oh yeah, that's going to do the trick.
Yoga. Breathing exercises. Channel Melody, my yogi. In and out. In and out. Find my center.
The whole world rocks, and the only thing keeping me from face planting is that my bound wrists are attached to something. Otherwise, that could've gotten ugly.
“Take it easy,” growls the angry bear voice.
“You take it fucking easy,” snaps Wild Child right back. “How long before we have the cops on our tail?”
“Right away, if you keep driving like this. I should've taken the fucking wheel.” The deep voice again. That's King, then? What's with the dumb nicknames?
Dad's security advisor gave me all sorts of tips for this kind of stuff, but his time was usually squeezed in between dance lessons and manicures, and his lectures were dryer than eating dust, so I never paid very good attention. To be honest, with all our security, I never expected something to actually happen.
Guess the joke's on me.
“Turn here,” says King. The van veers and my wrists strain painfully against the ropes.
What's their plan? I'm valuable. I'm the mayor's daughter. Ransom? Probably. As long as I have value, they won't harm me. Hopefully. I saw a mafia movie once, where they sent the kidnapped victim's fingers one by one as a threat, and now I really wish I never watched that. Like, really, really.
“Shit!” We stop suddenly, tires screeching. Whatever I'm leaned against digs into my back, and then, a moment later, a heavy weight strikes me so hard I grunt. Dark, scratchy breathing makes the hair on my neck flutter. The guy in back fell on top of me, and now I can feel his heat straight through my PJs and his cheek—neck? Arm?—against mine. Even without seeing him, I get a sense of how large he must be. And my body must be remembering how I fell asleep, because it reacts. What the hell, hormones?
“Jesus fucking Christ,” exclaims his growly voice right into my ear.
“It was a stray running across the street,” yells Wild Child. “I'm not going to run down a fucking dog.”
“Fuck, you nearly killed me.” The guy on top of me pushes off the wall, making it creak, and then his weight is gone, along with his heat. There's enough of a midnight chill that I almost miss it. My PJs are comfy, but they're not that thick. “Is the dog all right?” he asks.
“We scared the piss out of it, but it ran off into an alley. All good.” From the sound of it, King smacks the dashboard. “Let's get the fuck out of here.”
If we're still in the city, there might be someone out there, even at this hour. At least I think it's still night. Adrenaline has me supercharged, but tiredness is lurking around the edges.
I draw a deep lungful, like it's my last. “Help! Help me! I've been—”
Having my airflow cut off mid-yell forces an uncomfortable gurgling sound in my throat, somewhere between a burp and wheeze. A massive hand covers my whole mouth and nose easily.
So I bite it.
“Motherfu—” I take satisfaction in that, but he renews his grip, capturing my jaw so I can't bite him again. This time, I’m not just in his berry patch—I just stole the honey from his den. His voice is a death threat. “Do that again, and you'll regret it.”