Page 24 of The Arrangement

The sound of the front doors swinging open catches my attention. "Nicky, could you get that?" I call out, expecting to hear his footsteps or at least a shout back. Silence. Weird. Shrugging, I wrap up my call log and head out myself to see who's just walked in.

I push through to the main space of the shop, eyes scanning, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever just breezed through the door. But it's like a ghost town – not a soul in sight. And it hits me: no one's scheduled to drop off their pup for another thirty minutes.

After the whole whirlwind with Maksim, I've been religious about locking the front door, a little slice of common sense in my otherwise unpredictable life. But Nicky, bless his heart, must've spaced on that detail. Seriously, where the heck is he?

"Nicky?" I call out again, louder this time, my voice echoing in the empty space. Silence. Not even the echo of my own footsteps for company.

The realization that I'm standing in the quiet shop alone, with the door probably swinging in the wind thanks to Nicky's oversight, sends a ripple of frustration through me. I make a mental note to have a chat with him about security protocols, about locking doors. But first, I've got to find him. It's not like Nicky to just vanish.

With a sigh, I start a more thorough search, peering behind counters, checking the back rooms, even poking my head into the tiny storage closet that barely fits a vacuum cleaner and a shelf of cleaning supplies. But nada. Nicky's pulled a Houdini on me, and I'm not amused.

"Great, just what I needed today.”

As if materializing from the shadows themselves, two men emerge abruptly, seizing my arms with a ferocity that sends waves of shock and terror coursing through me.

“You’re coming with us," one of them declares.

The cold certainty in his tone makes it clear this is no random altercation. This is targeted, deliberate, and I'm the focus of their unwelcome attention.

My initial shock morphs into pure adrenaline-fueled resistance. I'm kicking, screaming, thrashing like my life depends on it because it might just. "Nicky! Help!" I yell at the top of my lungs, hoping he's somewhere close, hoping anyone's close.

In the chaos, I manage to sink my teeth into one of the guy's arms, a desperate move that pays off when he yelps in pain and loosens his grip. But my victory is short-lived. In the scuffle, I lose my balance, my head connecting with the sharp edge of the counter. The world goes black before I even hit the ground.

Chapter 13

Tory

Waking up with the taste of confusion in my mouth, the first thing I notice is my jaw aching like it's been on the wrong end of a punch. Where the heck am I? My eyes flicker open, taking in the surroundings, and it's definitely not my cozy Murphy bed in the back of the shop.

Panic flutters in my chest as I think about the shop. Did Nicky manage to call Ty? Hell, does he even know I got snatched? What about the police—did anyone think to dial 911? The questions barrel through my mind, each one ramping up my worry.

Trying to sit up causes my head to spin, a lovely dose of dizziness just to spice things up. But I've got to get my bearings. The room's got that bland, sterile feel of an office, but it's plonked right in the middle of some warehouse, all bare concrete and cold steel.

I push myself up, ignoring the merry-go-round in my head, and stagger over to the door. Locked, obviously, because why make my day easy? Dead bolted for that extra touch of "you're not going anywhere."

A quick search is next on the agenda. I'm tearing through desk drawers like a madwoman, half expecting to find a key waving at me with a sign that says 'escape here.' But luck's not on my side—nothing. No key, no helpful tools, not even a paperclip for a makeshift lock-picking attempt.

Stuck in a kidnapper's office décor nightmare, I'm trying to piece together my next move. My brain's doing somersaults, trying to figure out if I can MacGyver my way out of here, but without anything useful in sight, options are looking slim.

My thoughts circle back to the shop, to Nicky, Ty, and even Howard the Great Dane with his monster poops. God, I'd give anything to be dealing with that mess instead of this.

Is this whole business about Ned's loan? I thought Maksim had squared it away, said it was all forgiven. Was that just a line? A play to get me into bed after all? My mind races through the possibilities, each more unsettling than the last.

Then, the sound of the door unlocking snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts. Instinct kicks in, and I'm back in the chair. Whoever is coming in, I'm not taking any chances.

A man I’ve never seen is standing in the doorway, gazing at me. His expression is strange, and all I can think about are the serial killers I’ve seen documentaries about. I look around again for a weapon, but I see nothing.

“Who are you? What do you want?” I ask, my voice as steady as I can make it.

He ignores my questions and grabs my arm like we're in some sort of action movie.

I pull away, my anger flaring. "Don't touch me!" I snap, my patience fraying at the edges.

"Shut up," he hisses, his grip tightening as he pushes me toward the door and down the hallway. I’m screaming my head off, hoping a decent person might be somewhere in the building and hear me. It’s not doing me a damn bit of good, however – this place is so bleak and endless that I might as well be at the bottom of the ocean.

We reach another door and the man knocks.

“What is this?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

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