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I kicked and screamed short bursts of broken sounds until I was on the verge of losing my voice altogether.
My abductors must have been frustrated because the one trying to grab me stopped and ripped the bag off my bed instead.
Tears clouded my vision, and I filled my lungs with the fresh night air as I blinked them free until the tall blurry figure standing over me became clear, and I was staring into the familiar face of my would-be murderer.
It wasn’t Ky or his crew.
It was Rowdy.
“You want to get out, or you want to stay in there?” he casually inquired like I wasn’t tied up in his trunk—as if it wasn’t him who’dputme there. “I don’t have all night, beautiful.”
As soon as he was done speaking, the invisible chains fell away, and I was freed from my stunned silence. “Are you kidding me?” I questioned hoarsely, pushing my ravaged throat past its limits.
Rowdy didn’t respond.
He tried once again to help me out, but I kicked out at him, catching him in his chest and making him grunt before he finally got the hint and backed off. I climbed out of his trunk—awkwardly since my hands were still bound—and ended up tumbling over the side and hitting the groundhard.
The fall hurt like a bitch, but Rowdy was smart and didn’t try to help me again. With gritted teeth, I pushed to my feet and warily looked around.
My belly sank as I took in the dimly lit parking lot and rundown motel a few feet away.
Hooker’s Cove.
Rowdy had driven me home.
I whipped around to face him again. A sneer on my lips. “You couldn’t have just offered me a ride like a normal fucking person?”
My voice and all of the commotion must have carried.
The curtains moved inside a few of the rooms, so I turned my head, silently beseeching the guests who were discreetly peeking out of their windows. Once they noticed me looking, the drapes quickly drew back, and the message became clear.
No one was going to come to my rescue if Rowdy decided to murder me.
I didn’t think he would, but I’d been wrong about people before. Sutton. Sienna. My parents. Rowdy was particularly wishy-washy. It was like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to hate me, ignore me, or…be with me.
Right now, there was no emotion on his face to guide me as he stared blankly down at me. “Would you have come if I had?”
No.
Not while he hadherwith him, riding shotgun and touching him while I silently languished in the back seat. There was no sign of Savannah in his car now, and I stopped myself from wondering where she’d gone…and if she was waiting in his bed for him while he dealt with me.
I was silent, so he arrogantly spat, “Exactly.” His face was balled up likeIwas the cause of all our problems. “You like to do shit the hard way, Atlas, so this is me giving you what you want.”
“I didn’t ask to be kidnapped and tied up, Owen! I really thought—”
I’d thought I was going to die or be tortured for information I didn’t have.
I didn’t allow myself to finish that thought aloud—to let him see how vulnerable and helpless he’d made me feel. I already hated myself for allowing him to have so much of me when he’d done nothing to earn it.
“You thought what? You thought I’d hurt you?” He came toward me, but I backed away. “Atlas,” he pleaded, sounding frustrated. “I would never do that. If it ever came to it, I’d walk away before I ever raised a hand to you.”
“That’s your problem, Owen. You think physical pain is the only hurt there is. It’s not even the kind that cuts deepest. You’d know that if you knew how to care for anyone but yourself.”
I returned the blank stare he’d given me moments ago. This time, he was the open book. I saw my words land and watched with a twisted satisfaction as they mutilated his overinflated ego.
“All right,” he said lowly when the silence became too heavy. “I’ll give you that, Atlas. Just let me help you.”
“No. I don’t want anything from you.”
