I don’t have the words.
It was just so…
“Perfect,” I say, noticing Maria’s demeanor change as she stares down at her screen. “What’s wrong?”
“You need to see this,” she mutters.
“Can it wait, Maria? I’m having some really inappropriate thoughts about my dad’s business partner.”
With her cheeks turning white, Maria turns her screen to me.
“It’s the silver fox,” she says. “Look. Someone just tagged me in it. It’s gone viral.”
Squinting at her phone, my mouth falls open when I spot a blurry image of a man holding a gun.
Taking it from her hand, I zoom in, and there’s no mistaking his posture and physique.
I flinch as the grainy image shows him pressing a gun to someone’s head and…
“Oh God…” I gasp. “That’s Duncan Maguire.”
“Who?” Maria asks.
“The trucker guy I told you about. The one who tried to touch me!”
Maria grimaces. “Doesn’t look like he’ll be doing that again in a hurry.”
“Why?” I snap. “Chris didn’t hurt him. He told me.”
She shakes her head. “Cameras don’t lie, Harps. The dude who took this video ran away when two hench guys chased after him. You need to be careful.”
“He wouldn’t lie to me,” I say, doubting myself.
Staring at the exit, I grab my leather jacket and start running.
He didn’t lie to me, I pray as I barge through the crowd.
“Chris!” I yell as the lights of his Aston Martin grow fainter in the distance. “Shit!”
Pulling out my phone, I find his number and…
“Miss Reeves?” someone says, and I spin to find two large men in posh suits.
“My painting is sold,” I tell them. “But the gallery is still?-“
“We’re not here for the artwork,” the bald guy says, pulling out a wallet. “I’m Detective Phillips, and this is my colleague, Detective Robertson.”
He flashes his badge, but my head is spinning.
“You’repolice?” I ask. “What do you want with me?”
When the bald guy glances at his colleague, I notice a deep cut running along his forehead and his jaw is badly bruised.
“Sorry,” he says, noticing me looking. “Injuries are part of the job, I’m afraid. Every shift could be our last.”
“Armed bank robbers don’t like being caught,” Detective Robertson adds.
“What do you want with me?” I ask again.
The bald guy purses his lips. “Is your father a Mr. Mark James Reeves?”
“Y-yes,” I stutter, not liking the look in his eye. “Why? What’s happened to him?”
“There has been an…accident,” he says, and I throw a hand to my mouth.
Thoughts of the night my mother died zoom into my head.
This can’t be happening.
Not again.
“Is he…?” I murmur.
“He’s badly injured but stable,” the shorter cop says. “The next twenty-four hours are critical.”
“He asked us to bring you to the hospital,” the bald one says.
Then he steps up to a black car and pulls open the back door.
“Please,” he says. “We respect your father a great deal. And we wouldn’t want to be…too late.”
Oh my God.
Slipping my phone back into my bag, I walk to the car and sit in the back seat.
My mind is eerily quiet as the two cops get in the front.
“Is he going to be okay?” I ask.
Starting the ignition, Detective Phillips catches my eye in the rearview mirror.
“We’re praying for him,” he says, and a warm bile rises up my throat.
He can’t die.
He’s a shit father, but I love him and he’s the only dad I have.
At least the hospital is only a three-minute drive away.
“Can’t you run the red?” I ask him as he pulls up to the traffic light.
“Safety, madam,” he says, glancing at me again.
When the signal changes, he hits the gas and keeps driving.
“You missed the turn,” I tell him.
“We didn’t,” the short cop says.
“The hospital is that way!” I say.
“He’s not in that hospital.”
“So where is he?” I snap. “This is weird. I’m calling him.”
The shorter cop reaches between the seats and snatches my phone.
“That won’t be necessary, Harper.”
The sudden glare in his cold eyes floods my body with adrenaline.
And when his grin reveals a missing tooth, I reach for the door handle.
It’s locked.
And these guys are not police.
“Goodnight,” he says, spraying something into my face.
Then my world falls black…
“Wakey, wakey,” someone yells, jabbing my stomach with something hard.
As I come around, I try to move, but I can’t.
My wrists are bound, and my hands are tied to some kind of chair.
And I can’t see anything because my head is covered.
“Arggghhh!” I groan, biting down into the mouth gag.
“Looks like she’s back with us!” some guy cackles from behind me.
“Shame,” someone else says. “Maybe we should have some real fun with her before he shows up. That pretty little ass seems too good to waste.”
“Leave her,” a male voice says, turning my blood to ice. “She’s all mine.”
Please, God, no. Not him. Not now.
The hood is pulled off my head and a light blinds my eyes.
Someone behind me unties my mouth gag and yanks it away so hard it stings my lips.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.