Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(13)
“Everything okay there, darlin’? These guys bothering you?” he asked with a skeptical eye at my Armani clad kidnappers.
I swallowed and struggled not to throw myself across the bar and cling to the safety this man represented. The hard barrel at my ribs stopped me.
“Yeah, I’m fine. These are...” I trailed off, trying to think of some secret code I could use that would alert him to my situation. Then he could call the cops and they would hurtle into the building and save me. It happened in movies.
“We’re her cousins, come to take her home. It’s not safe for a woman to be drinking alone out here. Who knows what kind of sickos could take advantage,” the fat one cut in.
The barman eyed them skeptically, no doubt eyeing the lack of resemblance. He didn’t have time to inspect it thoroughly as I was roughly pulled to my feet.
“Come on, cuz, let’s get you home.” Blue Eyes grasped my upper arm tightly.
I swayed as the bar spun, but I didn’t have a chance to get my balance as I was dragged across the room. I managed to put one foot in front of the other without face planting; no mean feat in six inch heels and a belly full of liquor. My eyes burned as I was pulled out the door and into the sunlight. I put my hand up to shield my face from the rays and the grip on my arm tightened.
“Keep walkin’, Red. Don’t want a bullet hole to ruin your outfit, do we?” Blue Eyes yanked me along the street in the direction of a blacked-out SUV.
The sunlight may have temporarily blinded me but it also sobered me slightly. I glanced around at the small but busy street. I couldn’t remember the name of this place but I knew where my hotel was; not too far away from this bar actually. I also knew that a police station was two doors down from my hotel. I didn’t doubt these guys had a gun, but I also wondered if they’d actually use it on me. They were obviously kidnapping me for a reason; either that or they were going to kill me somewhere and dump my body, in which case I had nothing to lose. Or they needed me for some unknown reason, and then they would need me breathing. In any case I wasn’t going to let them have me without a fight. I was Amy Abrams, for f*ck’s sake.
The SUV was getting closer so I had to act quickly. I pretended to stumble, pulling Blue Eyes back around.
“What the...” he started, but I interrupted him by jamming my heel into his shoe.
That move would not work on some of the bikers I had been hanging around lately, on account of their steel-capped boots. It worked a treat on soft Italian leather loafers. My heel went straight through and into his foot. He screamed in pain and let go of my arm. I pulled my foot back and turned on Fat Guy, who was standing frozen. I kneed him in the nuts, satisfied at the grunt of pain he emitted. People on the street were looking now, but I didn’t want to put any of them in the potential crossfire. I ran in the direction of the police station, adrenaline replacing some of the alcohol in my system. Not all of it; I still swayed a bit but I managed to stay upright. I heard people yelling in concern but blocked it out, pushing my legs to go faster as I crossed the street. I started to feel elated and pleased with myself for my escape without the need for a rescue. I am a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man to rescue her from a kidnapping. On that thought someone tackled me to the ground. I felt a dull pain from the impact but thankfully alcohol provided a pain cushion.
“Not smart, Red,” a voice hissed in my ear.
That’s when everything went black.
I woke up slowly with a thumping headache and aches all over my body. I kept my eyes closed for a few moments, trying to will myself back to sleep so I could sleep off this giant hangover. Unfortunately I was to suffer conscious. Great. I cracked my eyes open, intending to reach over to my nightstand for some water, but stopped short. The plush ceiling was not what I had at my mediocre hotel. I glanced around at the luxurious bedding, realizing I was not in anyplace familiar. I also realized that my hands were above my head and were handcuffed to an ornate bedframe. Why this wasn’t the first thing I noticed I had no idea. Hangovers did weird things to me. Speaking of weird things, what kind of guy did I go home with last night?
I wracked my brain and tried to retrieve some memories, ignoring the sick feeling I had at sleeping with a strange guy. There hadn’t been anyone since...him. That feeling was quickly replaced with dread as the previous events washed over me. My worries consisted of something a whole lot bigger than a Coyote Ugly situation and more in the realm of a f*cking life or death situation. Fear crept up my throat and I struggled with the cuffs, trying to maneuver them off the frame.
“She’s awake,” a voice declared and I jumped.
A man strolled from the edge of the room to stand over me, a phone to his ear and a frown on his face. His blue eyes looked familiar.
“Got it.” He ended the call and regarded me coolly.
I gulped, fear crawling up my throat. “What do you want with me?” I demanded, meeting his gaze. I was proud that my voice didn’t shake.
He stepped closer to the bed and leaned toward me. I failed to hide my flinch, expecting a blow of some kind. The pain I expected never came; instead my hands were released from the handcuffs. I rubbed them, eyeing the angry red welts that remained.
“Up,” Blue Eyes commanded.
I glared at him, scrambling up and over to the opposite side of the enormous bed, thankful for the barrier between us. It was an illusion of safety but I clung to it.