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CLARA
“What are you doing?!” I half-hiss, half-shriek at Demyen’s assistant when she grabs a zip-tie from a guard and binds my wrists together in front of me. My heart is pounding in my ears so loud, I’m not sure I can hear her answer.
Bambi’s face is a mask of grim determination as she tightens the zip-tie and then moves to my legs. “I’m following orders.”
“Oh, God… you’re gonna kill me.”
That’s what this is. It’s an execution. She’s trussing me up like a turkey right before the men slaughter me. What about Willow? I can’t—I don’t?—
“Will you calm down?” Her voice is soft but there’s no mistaking the authority in it.
I shut up instantly.
“Good. Listen.” Bambi straightens and holds her hand out to no one in particular, waiting until a guard hands her a clean handkerchief. “You panicking? That’s too risky. You’re going to get us all shot, or worse. That’s why the boss said to shut you up.”
“But he said to get rid of me?—”
“Out of sight. Away from the prying eyes of your asshole ex.” She twists the fabric in her fingers, then wraps it around my head. “Bite down. It’s clean, promise. Won’t taste great, but the plan is to not need it for long.”
My “why” is more of a muffled grunt as I do what she says. She’s right—it tastes terrible. I’m not loving the dry cotton in my mouth.
Bambi sighs as she tightens the knot behind my head. “Because if thingsdogo south, it will be better for you if you look like an unwilling participant. Acaptive, Clara,” she adds a little impatiently when she sees the questions in my eyes. “Think about it: if Martin does find you, would he beat you up for being a kidnapping victim? No? What about if you were the woman warming my boss’s bed?”
Shit.She has a point.
“That’s what I thought. Willow will be safe. Extremely safe. To be brutally honest, between the two of you, you’ll probably go down first as live bait before we let anyone get their hands on her.”
It’s a horrible vision in my mind, but one that I’m honestly okay with. I’d rather Martin kill me slowly if it meant buying time for my baby’s escape.
Bambi offers me a small smile, but it’s genuine. “She’s a great kid. You’ve done a great job, despite everything you’ve had to deal with. She’s polite, she’s sweet, she’sinsanelyintelligent…” She sighs again and rests a hand on my arm. “So I can promise you right now, cop or not: if he lays one finger on her, I’ll shoot him myself.”
And then I’m shoved backward into some sort of utility closet.
Into the dark.
Into the silence.
Into the depths of my own hyperventilating mind.
It’s just like the box.
I’m back in that damned box.
No—the box was warmer. This is… not cold, but also not wood. I’m in a closet, not a box. But it stillfeelslike that damned box.
At least the box was better than being in the trunk. The trunk was too cramped, too scary. Everything rumbled beneath me; every turn made me roll around and slam into things. I felt like I was suffocating in the trunk of that godforsaken car.
I don’t even remember how I got in there. How I got so close to someone who wanted to hurt me bad enough…
Sometimes, it feels silly, being a grown woman drowning in her own memories over something that happened years and years ago. I was rescued, I was healthy and unharmed, and I was home in Mama’s arms by morning. I fared far better than the dozens of missing children my father tried to find in all his years as detective.
But other times, like right now, it’s easy—tooeasy—to wallow in the sea of memories that horrible night seared into my mind.
Especially when the clearest memory is the one that put a man in prison for life.
I can’t blame Demyen for his anger. I don’t know what I’d do in his position, if someone I loved was suddenly locked away and I believed they were innocent.
All I can do is pray he keeps Martin away from Willow. My baby. My sweet baby who doesn’t deserve any of this, who deserves far better than what I’ve ever been able to give her.
