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“Dad?” Tears burn my eyes and I lean down as I feel for his pulse.
He’s breathing and the blood pounds past my fingertips in slow, even pulses.
“I think… I think he’s drugged.”
I smack his stubbly face. But he doesn’t wake up.
A small sob escapes my mouth.
But I press my lips together and swallow over the burning lump in my throat. I squeeze my eyes hard against the blur of tears. This is not the time to cry.
“Amy? Amy!” I whip around and face her. “Help me.”
She rises and drops the cake tester, which is probably a stupid weapon, but it’s thin and pointy, and aimed at the right place, it could cause pain. If there was someone to hurt. If those weak bastards out there came in.
Shit.
“Help me move him.”
Together we drag Dad over to where we’re sitting, and I look at her.
“Are you ready to talk?”
“I don’t know what’s going on, Scarlett. Just… my dad…” She closes her eyes and gives a sob. “He made me leave with him and then… then someone took me and…” Her gaze hits mine. Her voice drops to a whisper. “What if Dad did this?”
“Why would Uncle Grant kidnap you? He’s worried, panicked. He’s got Malone looking for you.”
Oh hell, what if the kidnappers forced Grant to lead Amelia out? It’s a horrible thought because there are so many things that that says about my uncle. Damning things.
Like it means he put himself first.
The way he did when he manipulated me into Malone’s clutches.
But Amelia’s his kid.
I swallow.
Hard.
“This door…” I jump up. “Watch Dad and watch the other one for me. If they come in, let me know.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
There’s a lock, and when I turn the handle, it pulls a little. So it’s locked on the other side?
I’m about to try using the screwdriver part of my knife when the other door scrapes and Amelia makes a sound.
I spin.
“There’s no way out, Scarlett,” a man says.
“You.”
It’s the voice from the club. The voice I heard with Uncle Grant.
And the man who watched me and sent me a drink at the poker game.
He smiles. “Me.”
