Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men #9)(120)

I choked out a sob and wondered if I’d ever see him again. But those thoughts led to the worst panic. The thought of never getting out of here alive, never seeing Colton or my dad or best friends again, it all made my chest heave and body shake. So I shut those thoughts down and returned to just images of Colton’s face and the way he never failed to look at me with an impatient hunger.

I love you, I whispered inside my head, wondering if maybe he might hear it in his head if I thought it loud and hard enough. I love you, and I’m right here. Please find me.

A tear trickled down my cheek, making me grit my teeth. Dammit, no more tears. I couldn’t waste anymore moisture coming out of me. I needed to survive, prove my hearty ancestors proud, and make it through this.

I would overcome.

I just didn’t know how. And I felt so lost and alone and hopeless, another tear tracked down my cheek.

“Someone,” I croaked the word aloud, though my rasping voice barely lifted above a whisper. “Help me.”

As if answering a prayer, footsteps approached outside, making a crunching sound, like maybe boots plodding over gravel. Then metal scraped against metal. It was dark in my pit, but the air vent allowed just enough daylight in that I could see the inside of the door latch turning until it began to swing open. But the amount of brightness that flooded the cellar caused me to shrink back in my corner and hold up my hand to shade my eyes instead of scampering forward for help.

It was probably just as well I didn’t surge forward, anyway, because I soon discovered my captor—not a savior—had arrived.

“Hey,” a male voice said. “You still alive down there?”

I didn’t answer, wondering what would happen if he thought I was dead. Would he come down personally to check on me? Maybe I could overpower him and get out. He’d hit me from behind to capture me, he hadn’t tried to physically manhandle me; it was possible he wasn’t that big of a guy. Or would he shut the door, never to return, so that I really did die down here?

I was too afraid to move, yet too afraid not too. My breaths started to heave, so I slammed my hand to my mouth and bit my knuckles, hoping to keep quiet. A second later, the beam of a flashlight invaded my dark corner and hit me right in the eyes, causing me to clench them shut and cower my face into my knees.

“There she is,” he cooed approvingly. “Time to wake up now, Chocolate Tits. We got some justice to serve.”

Chocolate Tits?

I lifted my face, squinting until the flashlight moved away from my face, and I could make out the man’s silhouette. He crouched down onto his haunches, and the shadows shifted just enough to reveal the side of his face, along with a teardrop tattoo dripping down from the corner of his eye.

I gasped, my mouth falling open.

But what the hell? I thought he was in jail. The officers had said he was being arrested after he’d gotten into that fight with Colton. How had he gotten out? How had he found me? And why in God’s name had he kidnapped me?

“Remember me, do you?” he asked, resting his forearms on his knees so that his wrists dangled between them, one of his hands holding what looked like a knife.

My gaze shifted back and forth between his face where a cynical sneer contorted his features and that knife swaying lazily from his fingers.

He smirked when I didn’t answer him. “Yeah, you remember me.” Tilting his head to the side as he continued to watch me, he added, “Bet you’re wondering why I took you, huh? Probably think it’s payback for the way you and your boyfriend got me arrested. But no. That’s not it. That’s not it at all.” Then he chuckled. “Okay, maybe it is a little.”

He stood up again and spread his arms wide. “You probably can’t see it from down there, but all this land around me here is my family homestead. We owned the biggest damn orchard in the entire state. My parents, and brother, and I. It was…” His voice went breathless with awe as he gazed around him. “It was amazing.”

But as soon as the word hit his tongue, his shoulders fell.

“Until one of your f*cking black brothers raped and murdered my mother when she went to Chicago for a business trip.” His entire body shook and his lips peeled back away from his teeth as he gritted them. “My father ended up killing himself because of the grief. All the workers ran off, then my brother left. Now it’s just me. Me and my nightmares. I can’t sleep for the f*cking nightmares,” he screamed, pointing his knife at me as if it were all my fault.

Chest heaving and eyes filled with an unnatural glow, he glared at me, saying, “I’ve tried drugs and alcohol and sex and violence. None of it f*cking works. I still have the nightmares.”

Another tear trickled down my cheek. Maybe he should try dream catchers or rabbit’s feet. Not that I was going to suggest that, but it had to beat kidnapping.

“So you know what I finally figured out I was doing wrong?” he asked me. I didn’t answer and didn’t really think I had to. The guy seemed to be monologuing just fine without me. “I haven’t gotten my revenge yet. My justice. That’s what I’ve been doing wrong.” His arms went up as if in victory for coming up with his idea. “If I just rape and murder one of his women, all will be right in the world again. Justice will be served. And wasn’t it just handy you were the bitch who got me arrested on the very night I came up with the idea? And that I got a brief glimpse of your name and address on one of the witness reports in the file they had open when I signed my bond paperwork to get out of jail. It was as if destiny was telling me what to do, demanding what I do.”