Page 126 of Hot for Hostage

“Got you covered,” he muttered, shifting to stand behind me.

I crept closer. It was Fessy fleeing through a ransacked dining room. He limped between fallen furniture and stacks of boxes.

I didn’t see any sign of a weapon on him.

With a burst of speed, I snagged the little punk’s collar before he could get away and hauled him up until his gobsmacked face was close enough that I was breathing on him.

He gasped for air and clawed at my wrist.

“Where is she?” I ground out, his eyes widening in terror.

He trembled in my grip like he was on the verge of pissing himself.

“We didn’t touch her!” Fessy cried, kicking me in his desperation to get free. His feet bounced harmlessly off my legs. “She’s locked in a room upstairs, and she’s fine. I swear. I’ll take you to her. Just don’t hurt me.”

Vince and Malcolm shifted past us to clear the next room, and I pressed the barrel of my gun under Fessy’s chin.

“Which room?” I asked with a calm I didn’t feel. “Is she alone?”

Fessy’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly, right as a high-pitched scream pierced the air above us.

My blood turned to ice in my veins.

Sadie.

I flung Fessy aside like a rag doll and ran for the stairs.

a girl and her broom (sadie’s version)

. . .

Sadie

Sadie’s Guide toHostage-TakingBeing Taken HostageForming a Partnership with Your HostageEmbracing the Hostage LifestyleNot Freaking OutEscapingBeing Taken Hostage (Again), Tip #33: Anything can be a weapon if you’re desperate enough.

Patience wasn’t really mything.

I just wasn’t good at waiting, and I never had been. My baking instructor once claimed my biggest nemesis was an oven that hadn’t finished preheating yet. When I was six, my parents started the tradition of opening presents on Christmas Eve because I just couldn’t fall asleep knowing they’d be waiting for me the next morning. When it came to training at the shelter, most of the dogs were better at sitting still than I was.

But waiting in a musty, mold-infested room when I knew Davian was on his way had to take the cake for testing my patience.

I adjusted my grip on the broom handle for the dozenth time since Fessy left, and I tried to hype myself up to escape. I wasn’tfeeling quite as brave now that it was my life on the line instead of Bear’s.

Muffled yelling traveled through the door, followed by loud bangs that made me jump. I placed a hand over my heart and forced myself to take a deep breath.

Hostage situations really weren’t good for my blood pressure.

Then I tried the door handle again, in case by some fluke it magically wasn’t locked anymore. As luck would have it, the dooractually opened!

I wasn’t sure who was more surprised as it swung open—me or the wide-eyed Nasir holding the other end of the knob.

He recovered first and reached for me. “You?—”

“Ahh!” With a startled war cry, I moved on instinct and whacked him over the head with my broom.

“Jesus!” He swatted the broom away like it was a harmless fly, scowling at me. “Watch it! I’m trying tohelp you.”

I raised the broom for another swing but paused with it over my head. “…You are?”

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