Page 100 of Death and Donuts

Pivoting, I raced out of the kitchen, ignoring the ladies’ questioning calls. The image of the little girl from across the street tied to one of the kitchen chairs in our trashed house was burned into my brain. So was the message that had gone with it.

Unknown: You have fifteen minutes. Come alone or the girl dies.

I was out the front doors and in my SUV before some semblance of reasoning kicked in. As I started the engine, I sent a text to the group chat I had with Shepard and Cross.

Me: They have the little girl from across the street at my house. I’m headed there now. They said alone. It’s daylight, so I should be safe enough until one of you gets there. I can’t ignore this. I’m sorry.

My phone started ringing a second later. I didn’t answer. I was too focused on weaving in and out of traffic as I raced across town.

The minutes ticked by, and my phone quieted just as I pulled up in front of my house.

I was three minutes late.

Fumbling for the door handle, I spilled out of the SUV and raced for the front door.

The door to our house stood slightly ajar.

Without hesitating, I rushed in.

Harper sat on a single chair in the middle of our empty, graffitied living room. Her hair was in two cute pigtails, but she wasn’t tied or bound.

She smiled at me and said, “No bleeding.”

Pain exploded in the back of my head, and everything went dark.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The steady throbin my head forced me out of unconsciousness.

With a groan, I tried to reach for the source of pain. My hands wouldn’t move. No, that wasn’t right. They were moving; I just couldn’t lift them. They were stuck behind me.

Confused, I blinked my eyes open and tried to make sense of what they might be caught on. Turning my head made my stomach lurch. Nausea rose, and I closed my eyes and took a few calming breaths before trying to look again. The room swam in and out of focus for a few seconds.

I waited for my sight to clear. As it did, so did my thoughts.

No bleeding.

I’d gone to the house to save Harper, and someone had hit the back of my head.

Lifting my gaze, I looked around the unfamiliar space. A strip of twinkly lights strung overhead cast more shadows than light. But it was enough to see my elderly neighbor and his granddaughter kneeling not far away from me, near a ratty bed.

I took in their vacant stares and the bite marks on Harper’s grandpa’s neck and knew they were thralled.

I am so screwed.

My gaze swept the space, looking for clues regarding where they’d taken me. Straight ahead, I saw a steel railing. Beyond that, nothing but darkness. The break in the railing was wide enough for a set of stairs. So a loft apartment?

I breathed in the faded scent of old oil, exhaust, and chemicals. A loft in a warehouse?

My gaze swept the space again, taking in the dilapidated, sparse furnishings then down at myself. They’d tied me to my own damn kitchen chair, and my necklace was gone. How in the hell had they gotten it off if it was anti-theft? I spotted it on a table not far from me. Beside it were two blood bags. Condensation had already beaded on the plastic, showing they’d been out for a while.

I glanced at the windows near the roofline, trying to gauge the time. The windows gave no light whatsoever. Was it because of the paper covering them or because the sun had already set?

Panic set in hard. This shouldn’t have happened. Cross could move fast. Shepard could track me on the app. How did they not reach me in time? I’d called them. I looked for my phone and didn’t see it. I’d left it in the car.

Internally yelling at myself for my stupidity, I tried to think of a way out of the trouble I’d landed in.

If they couldn’t track me with the app, I needed to bleed. Cross always showed up when I bled. Fingernails in my palm? No, I might need my hands. Same with abrading my wrist with the rope.

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