Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(102)

I needed time to think about this.

He sighed. “Calla . . .”

Shaking my head, I backed away. “I really need to get back on the floor.”

When I turned away this time, Jax didn’t stop me. I walked back out onto the floor and it took everything in my power not to jump on the back of Aimee’s luminous blond head like a rabid spider monkey.

Yeah, I was jealous.

I was also human.

Jase and Cam were over with the girls, and Brock was with them. Katie was nowhere to be seen and I wondered if Teresa was going to be looking into a new profession. I wanted to chat with them, but when I saw Pearl, she looked like the rabid spider money.

Sending Pearl an apologetic look, I started working tables and running orders from the kitchen out to the floor. Before long, my brain was empty with the exception of drink and food orders, and that was perfect. Even though I needed time to think about what had happened, I didn’t want to think about it then.

I’d just ran an order of fries smothered in cheese and crab meat—what I planned on gorging myself on during break—to a table along the wall near the door, when I turned to head toward the cluster of round tables circling the pool tables and felt a hand curve around my arm, just above my elbow, and then there was a voice I didn’t recognize, right in my ear.

“Cause a scene, and I’m going to light this place up.”

Every molecule in my body turned to ice as I froze. The only thing that moved was my pounding heart.

“Good girl,” the man said, his hand tightening around my arm. “We’re going to walk right out of this bar. Behave and no one gets hurt. Got me?”

My mouth dried, and I jerked as I felt something press into my lower back. A gun? Shock blasted through my system, halting comprehension of what was going on. The man behind me started guiding me toward the door, and I imagined that to anyone around us, we looked like we knew each other. Well, other than what had to be a horrified look on my face, but we were at the door in seconds.

There was a crowd around the bar. Roxy and Nick and Jax were all serving drinks, and there were enough people that I couldn’t even see Aimee or my friends as the man reached around me and opened the door.

No one looked over.

No one stopped us.





Twenty-five


Kidnapped!

I was freaking being kidnapped!

This didn’t happen in real life. Maybe in books and in the movies, but not to real people.

But it was happening unless I was having a full-spectrum hallucination. My heart was working into cardiac territory as I was ushered around the side of Mona’s, toward the back parking lot, which butted up to trees, empty warehouses, and probably where people went to die.

The hand on my arm was harsh, biting into my skin, and I didn’t feel what I suspected had been a gun pressing into my back any longer. My legs were shaking so badly I was surprised I could walk or even stand, but then I saw the dark SUV parked near the Dumpsters, engine running.

The window rolled down on the driver’s side and from deep within the dark recesses, a voice boomed. “Hurry the f*ck up, Mo.”

Oh my God, there were two men, and there was a good chance I was going to end up like Rooster.

Every female in the world was taught to never let a kidnapper take you from whatever location you were originally at. That the risk of fighting back and getting an unexpected hole in your body was far less than allowing yourself to be taken to wherever.

That realization, something I’d learned ages ago, snapped me out of my shock.

I jerked forward, the movement catching my kidnapper off guard. He stumbled, but his grip tightened until I cried out. I twisted back toward him, catching a flash of an unfamiliar face. I opened my mouth to scream louder than I ever screamed in my entire life. I got a small shriek out before the man cursed, yanking on my arm fiercely. My back was suddenly pressed to his front and his hand smacked down on my mouth.

I smelled cigarettes and some kind of antibacterial hand sanitizer, and immediately panic rose as I tried to breathe through my nose, but I realized something important. With one hand on my mouth and his other arm clamped around my waist, that meant he wasn’t holding a gun or weapon unless he had a third arm.

So I bit down on his hand, biting down until I felt the skin pop. My stomach roiled, but I kept biting.

“Shit!” Mo exploded, jerking his hand away. I was free for a second and then spun out about a foot from him and twisted around so I was facing him. I saw him raise his hand and that was the only warning I had.

Pain burst along my jaw and mouth, and I stumbled back. Tiny starbursts exploded in my vision as the ache radiated down my neck.

“What the hell?” the guy in the SUV demanded, and then let out a string of curses.

“The bitch bit me!” Mo shouted back. “I’m f*cking bleeding.”

“You f*cking *. Jesus. Get her in the car and let’s—”

I didn’t hear the rest, because my blood pressure was through the roof, drowning out all sound, and I wheeled around and ran.

The flats I was wearing weren’t really conducive to booking it, but I ignored the pieces of gravel that dug through the thin soles. I ran toward the front of the building, letting out an ear-piercing scream that pitched high as I was slammed into from behind. I toppled forward, cracking my knees on the ground.

An arm circled my waist, hauling me up, and this wasn’t good. This was bad. So bad. Mo spun around, all but carrying me toward the SUV, which now had the driver’s door open.