Page 185 of Deliverance

As if on cue, the car begins to slow down. The hard surface of the road gives way to more unstable ground and the crunch of the tires against what sounds like gravel nearly deafens me. I try to reach for my ears to cover them up from the sharp noise of the rocks hitting the bottom of the trunk, but the ties around my wrists make it impossible.

Moments later, the vehicle comes to a full stop.

My heart instantly kicks into a high gear, the thuds so loud, it’s impossible to hear anything else. Just the maddeningthump-thump-thump.

Somewhere nearby, a door slams and the vehicle shakes a little from the impact. Then I hear heavy footfalls moving in my direction, each step deliberate.

Every part of my body grows alert, despite the fact that my arms and legs are bound.

There’s a small pop and the lid of the trunk above me slides open, fading moonlight spilling around a looming silhouette.

My gaze darts past his body in search of anything that could be considered a weakness, but it’s obvious that I’m the one in the delicate situation here. Tied up. Drugged. And absolutely unable to retaliate if he decides to hurt me.

“I’m sorry I ambushed you like this.” Rhys tilts his head at an odd angle, a movement hardly human, and I catch a hint of a sickly, grim smile on his mouth.

Bile coats the back of my throat as he leans over to bring his face closer, blocking my view of the sky. “I wanted to surprise you, babe.”

“Fuck you.”

“We’ll get to that part later.”

A shudder rakes me.

“First, we’re changing cars.”

29 Zander

I wakeup to the sound of my phone buzzing somewhere in my room. My mouth is dry and my head is pounding.

Apparently, hangovers and the late thirties don’t agree.

There’s an acute feeling of emptiness that pushes against my chest like a cement block and for a moment, I think it’s real, I think someone is playing a joke on me, but then I remember I’m not on tour and the only person who’d be insane enough to tie me up or tie a bunch of bricks to my body while I’m out cold is dead.

Chance is dead.

The thought obliterates me, my grief churning my stomach inside out. Or maybe it’s all the booze I drank last night after Drew left.

Memories slowly start coming back one by one. The yacht. The Lexus. The ring. The deafening silence. The awkward goodbye that felt more like a kick to my heart.

Cracking my eyes open, I stare at the light patterns dancing across the wall opposite my bed and try to guess what time it is. Moving isn’t an option now because my body is still in a state of temporary paralysis, every inch of me aching and burning from emptying the entire bottle of Patron while messing around behind my drum kit following Drew’s unexpected departure.

You fucked it up, moron.

No man proposes to a woman after a few months of dating.

Patience is a virtue you obviously don’t have and now you’re paying for your stupidity.

My phone pings again, the rattling coming from the vicinity of the dresser.

Small, inconsequential sounds. Someone desperately wanting to be heard.

What if it’s her?

The idea of that possibility does the job.

I roll to the side and carefully consider my next step. The distance between my bed and the piece of furniture where my phone currently resides feels like a cross-country backpacking trip, the trip I’m really unable to make in this condition.

Truth is, my brain is still struggling to come to terms with how things developed last night. I gave Drew a ring and she drove off.

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