We walk through the entryway and I pause, looking down the long dark hallway. He shoves me again from behind just as the door closes behind him.
“Keep walking until I say stop.”
Rolling my eyes because I’m well aware he can’t see me, I continue toward the end of the hallway, ignoring the chills that set off over my spine. I just have to survive. It smells like damp sewer in here which isn’t a good sign. Bryant would have called my dad and he will be searching for me. Hell, the best of the best will be searching for me. Just… stay alive and see what these people want.
We reach another steel door as the man that was following behind me comes in front, it swings open.
“Hey, sexy.” Brooke’s face came into view. Looking me up and down, she twirled her hair between her fingers. “You miss me? I hope so because I want to play.”
20
Bryant
“I have a team already looking for her.” I tug at my hair in frustration, leaning back into my chair and blazing up a smoke. It’s been hours now, and still nothing. Nada.
“Well, I’ll send out some codes too,” Isa’s father says through the voice box of my speakerphone. I lean forward in my leather chair, looking around my office as memories of the night before assault my brain. I made fucking love to her.
Fuck! The memories are going to fuck me up more than her presence ever did. I have to get her back.
“You don’t seem awfully stressed for a man who has just been told his daughter has been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped is a strong word to use.”
My blood turns ice, my face to stone. “And what exactly does that mean?”
“It means that this is Isa. She has probably run off, but I will do my best to find her. Again.”
Shaking my head, I laugh. “She hasn’t run off. Devon took her. When was the last time she ran off, huh? When she was a kid?”
Silence. “Summer 2012.”
More silence. My smirk drops. That was the time I met her, it was that summer. The day itself isn’t as clear as I’d like it, but I remember her. I remember her wanting to get into trouble. The concert we had all attended in the paddock behind the tent had long since died down, but we watched her the entire time. I knew who she was and who her father was, and initially, we wanted to fuck with her a little. See how the man who was running for president’s daughter ticked. See what I needed to do to get her on my side when the time came. But that all turned to shit quite fast when she killed Justin.
“Huh,” I mutter. “That was when I met her.”
“I figured,” her father murmurs. “Look. I’m not saying that we should be worried, but considering the circumstances around the marriage too, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has run off.”
Leaning back in my chair, I crank my neck and close my eyes. “We were…good….”
“What?”
“We were… good. We were starting to get on and build a connection. I don’t think it’s that.”
More silence. All I can hear is the ticking of the old grandfather clock that is in the corner of my office. Fucking hate that thing. Stupid old piece of shit.
“I’ll send out some feelers. You keep doing your bit.” Hanging up the phone, I loosen my tie and toss it across the room.
Where the fuck is she.
21
Isa
Beep.
Beep.
Cold chills lash out over my flesh, and I inch over, ready to throw up as a deep throbbing begins inside my brain.
“Brooke!” A scream shredded out of me as I pressed myself up from the concrete floor.
“Ohhh, come on, Isa,” her seductive voice slithered from somewhere in the distance. “You know how much I like to play.”
“Stop.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to play.” I bang on my head, scrunching eyes closed. “I don’t want to play, I don’t want to play. Playing is for losers.”
There was a long pause, so I lifted my head slowly, attempting to clear my eyesight. I saw her fuzzy form drop to her knees beside me. “But I want to.” She leaned down, her lips touching mine softly. I squeezed my eyes shut and refuse to open them.
“No, Brooke. Don’t touch me.”
Her fingers wrapped around the back of my neck as she pulled my face into hers harder, until my lips cushioned against hers. Her tongue slipped inside my mouth but I bit down on it until the metallic sting of blood slipped down my throat.
She laughed, a psychotic giggle erupting from her chest. “Yes.” She slipped back, swiping the blood off her bottom lip and then pressed the tip of her finger to my mouth. “Taste it, Isa. Taste what you’ve done. You know how I like it.” Then she cranked her head, as I tried to keep my food down. She leaned in until her lips are brushing over my ear. “Do you love the taste of my blood?”