Page 5 of Please Remember

"Maybe I should go bigger. Make it really worth his while, you know? He loves tits. And Allie was a D cup. I'm a C, but I could go bigger. Maybe I should go to a Double D. Even bigger than Allie was."

"Only if you want to, but I highly doubt he'd complain once you heal. I mean, he's a guy. Bigger is better when it comes to tits, right?"

My phone chimes, but I don’t check it; it’s probably a congratulations text from someone who couldn’t attend the party tonight. I know it’snot Jax texting to say he's late. He'd call me. But as more phones chime around us, it’s obvious a group message was sent out, and I look at my phone screen out of pure curiosity. The moment I see Jax's name, my heart sinks.

Everyone gasps, and I turn around to see Sage and Jax's family running for the door. Benji and Drew Mason quickly follow behind. "What's going on?" I ask no one in particular.

Deciding to look at the text, I gasp while more people run for the exit as if the building is on fire.

"What is it?" Natalie asks.

"It's a group text from Jax," I say and fall against the wall as I read the two words on my screen that threaten to end everything that I’ve put so much time into these past seven years.

"What does it say?"

The world shakes at my feet. "Allie's back."

Chapter Three

Allie

Wearing a white gown, I lay on a bed in the hospital room they brought me to. My feet have been treated and bandaged, and I have IVs in my arm. Dr. Westmore says one is to give me fluids while the other is antibiotics. Jax was instructed to step outside as the detectives asked me questions, and I wish he was back in here with me. I may not know him, but something about his presence comforts me.

Detective Parsons is a taller man with a bald head who wears a permanent scowl. It’s the only expression that appears on his face as he asks me the same questions over and over again. I’m so tired of everything. The earlier rush of adrenaline has faded, and now I just want to lie down and go to sleep.

"When you saythey, are you talking about one or more than one person?" Detective Shields asks.

Detective Shields is an attractive woman a couple of inches taller than me with black hair and brown eyes. She's clearly the good cop to Parsons' bad cop. At least she's tolerable. I find I don't much care forDetective Parsons.

"One person. But I don't know much about them. They always covered themselves head to toe. Only their eyes showed through the mask."

"What did their voice sound like?" Parsons asks.

I sigh in annoyance. "I've already told you this multiple times. They never said anything."

How many times is he going to ask me the same damn questions? I’m exhausted, and this is mentally draining. Not to mention utterly annoying.

"Then how did you know what you were supposed to do?"

"They communicated by clapping at me. It wasn't a hard system to figure out. Frantic claps meant what I was doing was wrong or needed to be sped up. Normal claps were to get my attention. Not rocket science," I say.

Shields flashes me a sympathetic smile. "And you couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman?"

Shaking my head, my greasy hair falls onto my face, and for the first time, I notice how terrible it smells. It makes my stomach churn. "No. Either a small man or a larger woman. I'd say to split the difference between you two for the height. Their frame was difficult to determine because they wore all black, and the basement had no windows or lights. When they were there, they used a light, but it never shone on them."

I wonder if they’ll let me shower soon. With real soap and warm water. I’d give just about anything to do that.

"So, no eye color or distinguishing features? Nothing at all that may help us identify them?"

I pause as I think back. No, everything was very routine. Very, very routine. "No, not that I remember."

"That's okay," she assures. "We'll figure it out."

"It has to be someone who knows me, right?" I say, and Parsons finally looks at me with an expression other than disbelief. "Because a stranger wouldn't have anything to gain from keeping me alive like this. And I wasn't hurt like you'd expect. But what did this person gain from keeping me locked up for seven years? That's how long I was gone, right? Seven years?"

"You remember how long you were down there?" Parsons asks.

His pointed stare has me instinctively folding my hands in my lap, and I look at them as I shake my head. "No, that's what Jax told me. My concept of time was messed up. I had no windows, and the time the food was brought varied so much, I never knew if it was morning or night."

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