Page 137 of Taste of Addiction

Up until now, Owen has never really sought out my company. He has primarily stayed in the shadows and never really made his presence obvious—except at the penthouse when he was there after one of the paparazzi events. Has he been watching me this whole time? Spying on me by pretending to be my bodyguard?

“Do you think Malcolm or Austin can run into town?”

“They are tied up at the moment.”

The way Owen says the wordtiedinstantly makes me know the hidden meaning. He finds this humorous. Sicko.

“Okay. Well, I think I’m going to go hang out in my room.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Oh? Why not?” My voice reaches a higher octave, and I inwardly cringe that I am sending off warning bells for him to see. Graham always says I lie like shit. And maybe he is right. I am just buying time. Maybe Nic will be able to figure out the missing clues by listening in on our verbal conversation. I just hope Graham and Collins can get free and not get hurt. Every second counts. Stall. Delay. Keep him talking.

“Because my boss has given me other orders.”

I fake a giggle, knowing that he is referring to someone else entirely. “Well, we both know how bossy Graham Marshall Hoffman can be.” I hope my mess-up of Graham and Nic’s middle name, Xavier, is a tipoff that I am in danger.

Owen snatches the phone from me, slamming it against the wall. He narrows his eyes at me as I quiver. “Quit being so coy. You know damn well that I’m not who I claim to be.”

“Why are you doing this?” My mind races at what to do and how to alert the others.

“We’re going to take a little field trip. Does that sound like fun?” he asks, his voice rough and now full of menace. He no longer looks like my bodyguard. Instead, he looks like a madman who just discovered he won.

As his body moves toward me, I take my fist and slam it against the bridge of his nose, using the technique Collins taught me just a few weeks ago. Never in a million years did I expect to need to defend myself from a man who vowed to protect me.

And then I hit Owen again. The loud sound of my huffing fills the air as he stumbles back. His hands fly toward me as he gains his bearings. I dodge and dart out of the room, bumping my shoulder into the wall as I frantically try to get ahead of him. I open my mouth to scream, and it’s as if my voice is frozen. The only sound that escapes my lips is air. Stale, dry air.

All my fears rush through my body, causing me to think of nothing except for how to survive. To get out of this hellish mess and to alert those I love of the betrayal.

I make it into the living room and weave myself between furniture, knocking down lamps and vases with each bump of my legs. I make it past the last couch when arms grab my waist and pull me back to a hard muscular chest. My flightless scream gets silenced by a hand, and I am lifted up and transported toward the foyer. No! I twist and try to wrestle my arms free when the front door comes into view.

I kick and wiggle with every ounce of my strength, as adrenaline surges through my body. I can’t leave here. I have seen so many of those crime shows warning about never getting into the kidnapper’s vehicle. If I do, I will surely die. Everyone dies.

I throw my head back and connect with Owen’s face. He lets go of me for a second, and I bolt toward my room to hide. I make it up a step, and then slam my chin onto the stairs as he grabs my leg and tugs me toward him from behind.

“Dammit,” he sneers. “You sure are feisty. Too bad keeping you as a pet isn’t part of the ultimate plan. Breaking you would be all the fun.”

I see the shoes of someone coming down the hallway, and I scream as loudly as I can. “Help! Someone help me! Helllllp!” My voice. It is back. I scream at the top of my lungs. Someone is here. Someone will hear me. My voice breaks into a crackling sound as I run out of stamina. Blood drips down my chin. I glance up to see some splattered against the wall, as the shoes become legs. Then a body. And a face.

Mark Tanner.

Shit.

I wish I was hallucinating. I wish this was just a bad dream. But from the sinister look in his eyes to the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, I know that I am in the presence—once again—of a madman.

“Good seeing you again, Angela. The hospital room visit was too short. How does it feel to have the love of your life not even believe you? I mean, granted, I have an awesome body double taking part of Graham’s security forces through half of Nevada. So, we should excuse his stupidity this time, right?”

“Ugh…” I groan. I knew it. I knew I wasn’t going crazy. He was at the hospital. I was not hallucinating.

“But to leave his woman in her time of despair…” Mark makes a shame-shame motion with his fingers. “Seems mighty careless.”

My teeth grind together. “What do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted,” Mark bites out. “For no one to interfere with my ultimate plans.”

My nose flares as I see all light shut off from behind his eyes. “And who drugged me last night?”

Owen pulls me up by my hair and binds me with his arms. “That was me,” he snickers in my ear. “You make being a drug addict look so fun. Livin’ the high life.” He dodges my head as I try to connect with his face again. This cannot be happening. Tears well in my eyes as he forces me to look at Mark’s cold ones.

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