Blush for Me (Fusion 3)

“Hi, Kat,” he says with a smile. “How’s it going?”

“I’m great, but I dropped my phone—”

“You won’t need it,” the other guy says with a smirk.

“What the fuck is this?” I demand.

“Listen, Kat,” Preston says. They’re not restraining me, but they have me caged in, as if they’re just two guys having a conversation with a girl, and my fight-or-flight instincts are on high alert. I can’t get away from them without them catching me.

But I can make a lot of fucking noise.

“You’ll want to stay calm and quiet,” Preston continues, as if he can read my damn mind. “If you make this difficult, we’ll go find your parents and your four hot-as-fuck friends, and make life very, very hard for them.”

“He means we’ll kill them,” the other guy says. “One at a time, in a horrible, painful way.”

“What do you want?” I ask. Why did I drop my phone? I need to get a message to Mac. Jesus, what the fuck is happening?

“Just you,” Preston says. “And not forever, just until our boss gets paid. But that’s a conversation for another time. Now, we’re going to walk out of here, with you, and you’re going to be nice and calm about it. No screaming, no drawing attention.”

“I don’t believe that you’d hurt my family,” I reply. “You don’t even know who my parents are.”

“Sue and Stu are a nice-looking couple,” Preston replies with a cold smile. “Your mama sure looked pretty in her blue dress today. What was the occasion?”

“You don’t even know where they are.”

Wordlessly, Preston taps on his phone, then shows me a photo of my parents walking into their condo.

“This was about thirty minutes ago,” he says.

I glare at him and don’t say a word as they flank me on either side, grabbing my arms, and walk me toward the exit.

I know the rules: never leave with your captor. Ever. Make noise. Run away.

Don’t be stupid.

But they have threatened to hurt my parents. My friends. I can’t let them do that. I have to stay calm and outsmart them.

We’re walking fast out to the garage, which is now full of cars, but empty of people because everyone is inside for the concert.

“Don’t be stupid,” Preston warns. “You won’t be able to outrun us, and if you did manage to get away, it’ll take two minutes for our guy to get into your parents’ place to make quite the mess.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” I snarl. “You didn’t find me at the side of the road by accident that day.”

He doesn’t reply, and his partner smirks.

“You’ve been following me.”

Again, they stay silent. Holy shit, they’ve been following me! For how long? And why?

“Tell me what’s going on,” I demand, but they both just clench their jaws and ignore me.

I hate being ignored.

“You know, I don’t know what your plan is, but I bet it’s not a great one. If you can just tell me what’s going on, I may be able to help you.”

“God, she’s a pain in the ass,” Thug Two says in exasperation.

“Shut up, Kat,” Preston says. “Just shut the fuck up.”

Not in this lifetime, asshole.

“I’m a pretty smart girl,” I reply. “And I’m not unreasonable.”

“For Christ sake,” Preston whispers. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but damn it, Kat, you just won’t shut the fuck up.”

He rears his hand back, and I’m terrified to see a handgun in his grip.

“No, don’t—”

But everything goes black.

Chapter Eighteen

~Mac~

I check my phone for the fiftieth time since Kat left for the restroom. She’s been gone for almost thirty minutes, and the concert is going to start at any moment.

Is the line that long?

I decide to text her.

The line must be nuts up there.

Do people not use the restroom before they leave the house? The lights flicker, and still no Kat, so I stand and climb the stairs to see if I can find her. Surprisingly, the hallway outside the gate entrances is pretty empty now, as people have gone in to find their seats for the show. There’s a restroom just opposite from our gate entrance, with just a few women left in line.

Kat isn’t one of them.

I frown and glance up and down the hall on each side, but I still don’t see her. Maybe she’s in the bathroom?

“Excuse me,” I say to a woman just exiting the restroom. “Can you tell me if you saw this woman inside?” I pull up a photo of Kat on my phone. She shakes her head slowly.

“No, I don’t think I saw her.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I peek around the cement wall to the restroom door, and there on the floor in the corner is a phone.

Kat’s phone.

“Excuse me,” I say, easing my way between the women and retrieving it. Did it fall out of her pocket or purse? I glance up at the next woman in line. “Do you mind going in and yelling out for Kat? She’s been gone awhile, and I can’t find her.”

“You’re not some stalker, are you?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

“No. I’m her boyfriend.”

“Okay.” She steps in and shouts, “Kat? Are you in here?”