“Yeah.”
“This Sadie,” he says. “She’s important to you?”
Frank knows everything about me, and he’s always been there for me. He helped me put my life back together when I didn’t think I had a future outside of prison. And when things ended with Kristy, he was the one that helped me channel all my anger into something productive: getting me into the best shape of my life and finally getting noticed. He knows from my words and my tone exactly what I’m feeling; sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself. “Yes. She is important to me.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Then, “We’ll get her back.”
“Thanks, Frank.”
“Get moving. We have a lot to do.” He hangs up, and I pocket my phone. I need to change as quickly as possible.
“Anything else I can do?” Ben asks.
“I wish there were,” I say. “Just keep your phone on, and feed the dogs if it gets too late.”
He nods. “I’m here for whatever you need.”
“Thanks.”
I tear my shirt off before I even reach my room. When I told Sadie I loved her this morning, it had been accidental, and all day I felt a knot in my stomach like I’d made the biggest and dumbest mistake. Now, with adrenaline pumping through me, and the idea that Sadie’s is in danger haunting me, that slip-up seems like nothing. In fact, it doesn’t even seem like a mistake anymore. And if I get her back. Fuck, no. When I get her back, because like hell am I going to give up. When I get her back I’m going to tell her again. And again and again. Because I’m not afraid of loving her or letting her know. The only thing I’m afraid of is losing her.
Time to go.11SadieThe big black SUV we’re riding in is comfortable, but we’ve been driving a really long time. I’ve noticed some traffic, but still, it doesn’t even take this long to drive to Jon’s house. Being new to town, I don’t exactly have the best lay of the land, but this seems like an unusually long trip when there are at least a dozen hotels within a few miles’ radius of the studios. Maybe they’re taking a strange route to avoid detection from Singleton’s men?
Georgie’s head rests in my lap, and I pet him as I try to relax. I focus on how relaxing it will be to finally get to the hotel. I’ll draw a bath, sink into the hot water, and close my eyes. And if Jon just happens to arrive when I’m naked and wet and covered in bubbles, well, we do want to make the most of the hotel room after all. As warm and sexy images fill my head, I feel my phone vibrate in my hand. I look down at the screen and my mood instantly changes. The slight anxiety I was feeling before comes back, times ten, as I read Jon’s text.Don’t panic.That is never a text that you want to receive, and has the exact opposite effect intended. His next text follows quickly.Don’t react.I type back quickly. What’s going on?Whatever you do, don’t go into a building with them. Keep Georgie with you. Can’t explain now, but they’re Singleton’s men.Suddenly I feel sick, nausea welling up in my stomach. These men in the car who have seemed so helpful and nice, who I’ve followed so willingly and chatted with all day, are working for the man who wants to hurt me. And they have me alone. Driving who knows where. I don’t know Nashville well enough to know where we’re going, but I’ve lived here long enough to know I’m in unknown territory, getting far from the city center. No wonder we’ve been driving for so long. They aren’t taking me to a hotel.
God knows where they are taking me. Probably somewhere it’s easy to make me disappear. Oh God, the thought takes my breath away.
I take a deep, even breath in and out. Now I know why he told me not to panic. Every cell in my body in screaming for me to panic. To fight. To run. Because if I don’t, they are going to kill me.
Another buzz.Get away if you can, but just stay safe at all costs.Then, I’m coming.What can I do? I can barely think, can barely function. My mouth waters as another wave of nausea washes over me. Might as well work with what I have. “Do you have a mint or something?” I ask the guy beside me; I’ve forgotten his name. “We’ve been driving for a while, and I get carsick super easily.”
“No,” he says. Am I imagining the harsh edge to his voice? “We’ll be there soon.”
“I don’t think I can wait that long,” I gasp. “I feel really sick.”