Page 32 of Mysterious

He doesn’t respond, but the other guy Kip smiles as I make my way down the hallway toward the back door. I guess that’s something, but I’m used to having someone to talk to around me. Liam always speaks. I’ve been thinking he didn’t speak a lot, but now that I’m with these two, he’s practically a chatterbox.

“Not a lot to say, huh?” I mumble as Kip opens the door for me.

I step outside into the hot south Florida early morning and look up at the blue sky without a cloud to be found. It’s going to be a great day. Since it’s barely seven a.m., I’m guessing we can make it back to the hotel by noon.

Then I remember I left my phone inside the studio. Spinning around, I point toward the door as my two bodyguards stare at me like they don’t know what to do. “Forgot something. I’ll be right back.”

See, that’s not like Liam either. He’d flat out ask me where I thought I was going. All this time, I thought he was pretty damn rude when he asked questions like that, but now that I hear nothing as I walk back into the building, I miss someone noticing what I’m up to.

On my way past the brothers’ room, I explain, “I forgot my phone.”

The two of them smile and nod, mostly because it’s a very typical thing for me to do. I always seem to leave something behind.

I find it on the piano seat and hold it up for them to see through the window. “Got it! See you later!”

That gets me more nods and another smile from each of them. As I walk back toward the car, I stuff my phone into my purse and throw open the steel door to the gorgeous morning outside. I’m surprised not to see Liam’s men, but I head toward the black SUV anyway. That’s also not something my guy would do. I know he trusts these two implicitly, but is it standard procedure to just let a client roam around unprotected like this? He must have warned them about my tendency to want to go off on my own.

Then again, it is only a few yards to where the car is parked. I glance left and right to see no one around, so maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing.

Liam really is wearing off on me. Next thing I know, I’ll be quoting rules and regulations to everyone.

I reach out to open the backseat door, but the car’s still locked. What’s going on? Is this some strange bodyguard prank Brett and Kip are playing on me?

“Funny. You got me. Did Liam tell you to punk me?”

Silence.

I press my nose to the window and try to see in through the tinted glass. “Can you please open the door? You know, I’m not sure what you’re doing, but Liam would never have me standing outside like this all alone.”

Still, they say nothing. I try the door again, but it’s still locked. What the fuck?

As I attempt to understand what the hell is happening, something hard hits me in the back of the head. I stumble forward into the car door, and then everything goes dark.

* * *

“Wake up,princess. You can’t sleep all day.”

I hear the voice telling me I need to wake up, but I don’t understand. I struggle to open my eyes, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get them to do as I want. It’s like my brain isn’t sending the right signal to get them to do the very thing they’re being told to do.

“Open your eyes, Mia. Open your eyes!”

Now the voice, which I know is a male’s, barks at me angrily. I want to tell him I’m trying my hardest, but I can’t seem to speak either. What the hell is wrong with me? Did I catch some flu? Or tetanus? That’s the thing that makes it impossible to close your mouth, isn’t it?

No, that’s lockjaw. Doesn’t that come from tetanus, though?

I try to figure out the answer, finally deciding that the opposite occurs, and you can’t open your mouth with lockjaw. Not that it matters because I don’t think the reason I can’t get my damn mouth to work is because of that or tetanus.

“Jesus Christ, Mia! Open your fucking eyes!” the man yells again, this time directly in front of my face.

Wait a second. I know that voice. Who is screaming at me?

Finally, I manage to open my right eye enough to see the person in front of me, and instantly, I begin to shake my head. No way should he be standing in front of me yelling a single word in my face. What the fuck is Michael doing in my hotel room screaming at me to open my eyes?

“That’s one. Do the second one and you’ll get a treat,” he says and then laughs.

I work to open my left eye, sure I’ve never used whatever muscle that is like this before in my entire life. It’s like there’s a five pound weight attached to my eyelid, but I finally get both eyes open to see Michael sitting in a chair in front of me in a place that is definitely not my hotel room or any room I’ve ever been in before.

“Attagirl. Now which do you want, orange juice or apple juice?” he asks in a snide tone, like I’m some imbecile he’s charged with making comfortable.

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