Page 14 of The Cousins and the Brunette

The van’s engine hummed a monotonous lullaby, but my heart was an erratic drumbeat. I tried to steady my breathing, in and out. The fear, though, was a stubborn bitch.

“Nearly there,” cut the voice up front.

When the vehicle halted, rough hands pulled me out, leading me through what seemed like winding corridors, the echoes of our footsteps betraying the expanse we traversed. We went down a long, narrow staircase. My shoulders tensed as we descended—each step down a further plunge into my new reality.

Finally, we came to a halt and the blindfold was snatched away with a brisk tug. A faintly lit basement sprawled before me, with three cells with bars.

Ah, just what every girl dreams of—her very own underground dungeon. At least they spared no expense on the ambiance.

“Welcome home, Elizabeth,” said one of the men, his playful tone at odds with the grimness of the scene. “I’m Braxton Porter. And you are our prisoner.”

Braxton stood before me, a portrait of casual indifference. His sandy blond hair was mussed perfectly, his sexy brown eyes drank me in, and his grin suggested he was privy to life’s cosmic joke. He wore a fitted tee that clung to his lean frame, paired with designer jeans.

Well, hello there, Mr. Calvin Klein. If this whole kidnapping gig didn’t work out, I bet he’d have a bright future as an underwear model.

Another man stepped forward, his muscular frame clad in a fitted black t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest, and his dark jeans hugged his legs. A silver chain glinted at his neck, catching the overhead lights.

“Joel Porter,” he barked, his green eyes narrowing at me. “Don’t get any ideas about escaping. I’m not as friendly as my cousin here.”

I bit back a retort, my jaw clenching. Play it cool, Brynn. You’re Elizabeth now. Right, because nothing says ‘wealthy heiress’ like the urge to punch someone in the throat.

Deep breaths, girl. Channel your inner snob.

“Sebastian Porter,” another man said, his deep voice measured and calm. “I apologize for the...unconventional accommodations, Miss Shoemaker.”

Sebastian moved forward, his six-foot-tall figure exuding quiet authority. His dark hair was cut short and neatly styled. His deep brown eyes took in everything around him, and his clean-shaven face gave him a polished, professional look. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, paired with dark slacks that fit perfectly over his sturdy frame.

Well, wasn’t he just the poster boy for ‘Kidnappers Weekly.’ I bet he ironed his ski masks and color-coded his ransom notes.

“Oh, please.” I scoffed, channeling my fake inner Elite. “Call me Elizabeth. We’re all friends here, right?”

Braxton chuckled, but Joel’s scowl deepened.

“Get in,” Joel growled, shoving me towards the nearest cell.

I stumbled inside, the heavy metal door clanging shut behind me. The sound reverberated through my bones, a finality that made my stomach lurch. The cell was sparse. Just a narrow cot with a thin mattress, a metal toilet, and a small sink. A single bare bulb dangled from the ceiling, casting harsh light on the concrete walls.

Home sweet home. This place was so clean it was almost insulting.

Braxton smiled, leaning against the bars. “Hope you like your new digs, Elizabeth. We spared no expense.”

I rolled my eyes, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Oh, it’s lovely. Really brings out the ‘kidnapped heiress’ vibe I was going for.”

Joel slammed his hand against the wall, making me flinch. “Watch your mouth, princess. You’re our guest here.”

My heart hammered, but I forced a smirk. “Touchy, aren’t we? Did daddy not hug you enough as a child?”

I grimaced after I said it. Nice one, Brynn. Antagonize the guy who looks like he bench presses small cars for fun. Real smart.

Sebastian stepped between us. “Be nice, cousin.”

I stepped toward the bars. “Don’t I at least get a phone call? Or is that too cliché for you gentlemen?”

Braxton froze, grinning. “Sorry, sweetheart. No outside communication. But hey, if you’re feeling lonely, I’d be happy to keep you company.”

“I’d rather cuddle with the toilet, thanks,” I shot back, earning a laugh from Braxton and a glare from Joel.

Sebastian stepped between us. “We should let Miss Shoemaker rest. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

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