Page 73 of Mountain Hero

What was he doing? Was the photo sent to him? Did he know I’m in trouble? Was he on his way?

What would Enzo do?

If someone captured him, Enzo wouldn’t be hyperventilating and crying and shaking. He’d be strategizing, figuring out six different plans for escape. A bit easier for him, as he’s literally trained for this kind of thing, but still. There had to be something I could do.

So I started trying to engage my captor, alternating between asking why he’s doing this and trying to convince him to let me go. But so far, I’ve gotten nothing but silence or a snapped, “Be quiet,” in return.

It’s been twenty minutes since then—I’ve been counting to keep from completely losing it—and he’s still circling the room, pausing every so often to check his phone or to make sure my restraints are still securely tied.

After what must be my tenth plea to release me, the man lets out an aggrieved growl and turns to face me. “Fuck. Do you ever shut up? Do you want the damn gag again?”

The scared voice in my head tells me to do as he says.

But the other part of me that’s sick of asshole men thinking they can do whatever they want without consequence snaps, “If you let me go, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

His face jerks in shock. Gaze narrowing, he glares at me before grumbling, “God. If you’re this annoying all the time, I don’t know why my cousin is with you.”

What?

He adds dismissively, “I mean, you are attractive enough. And you have a nice body. So I guess that could make up for it. Maybe.”

His cousin?

I’ve been vacillating between thinking this all has something to do with Thomas—some sort of retribution he coordinated with one of his friends—or possibly involving an enemy Enzo made during his time in the Army. But his cousin?

The only family Enzo talks about regularly are his mom and uncle. He made a brief remark once about his uncle’s brother and kids when we were looking through some old childhood photos, but all he said was, “Oh, that’s Charles. He’s my uncle, technically, but he was estranged from my mom and Uncle Caleb for ages. I’ve never even met him. He lives in Florida with his wife and two adult kids.”

I think I said something like oh, that’s too bad, to which Enzo replied with a frown, “Not really. Charles never even called my mom when she was hurt after the robbery. And he and his family didn’t come to Uncle Caleb’s funeral. So it’s no loss.”

So why in the world is his cousin here, in Vermont, holding me captive?

Enzo’s cousin—I don’t even know his name—walks closer to me. His gaze drags up and down my body with the same look I used to get from Thomas’s friends. It’s predatory. Hungry. Frightening.

My stomach lurches, then squinches into an even tighter knot.

“You are quite attractive,” he continues, and reaches toward my breasts.

I yank away from him so hard my chair rocks on the back two legs, nearly tipping over before I manage to right myself.

“No,” I hiss. “Don’t touch me.”

“What are you going to do?” He laughs, a harsh, mocking sound. “You’re tied up. I can do whatever I want.”

Rage boils up inside me so quickly I’m breathless from it.

No. I will not let him do this. I’m not letting anyone touch me other than Enzo.

The scared voice in my head is shoved roughly to the side, and the bold, strong one takes over. “What do you want?” I bite out. “Stop playing games and just tell me.”

He stares at me for a second, his expression assessing. Then he says thoughtfully, “I guess I can see it. The appeal. You’re even prettier when you’re angry. All flushed and those eyes flashing at me. I suppose I can understand why Enzo and that dumb shit Thomas have a thing for you.”

What?

Thomas? What does he have to do with?—

Oh, crap.

Everything is slotting into place.

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