Page 64 of New Year
“Better. I didn’t tell you? Zack finally upgraded the restaurant security systems, so I can watch the live feed from my tablet. Even if I can’t go in myself, I can still see what’s going on. Such as your boyfriend bussing a table right now.”
“Zack’s bussing a table? Really?” Nat circled the recliner. The tablet showed four separate windows, each with a camera number in the top corner. It looked like Zack was in the Mediterranean Villa room. “Nice to see the boss getting his hands dirty.”
“Yes, well, some of the best head chefs in the country started out bussing tables and worked their way up. Not everyone can afford culinary school, same as any college or trade school. Education is too damned expensive in this country.”
“Agreed. I dropped out because I couldn’t afford it anymore.”
“Yes, and then you found a possible new path. I enjoy your companionship, and you have an empathic spirit, Nathaniel. There are different schools and certifications you can look in to if you wish to pursue a career in the home care industry.”
Nat sat on the couch. “What? Getting sick of me already?”
“Hardly, but I don’t always need you lingering about, and it might be a good idea to look at some part-time class options. Again, if this is a field you can see yourself in long-term.”
“I’m not sure. You’re a really easy person to get along with. I’m not sure how I’d do with other patients. Especially, you know, dementia patients. Ones who might get violent.”
Chase flinched. “That’s very true, I hadn’t thought of that. You’ve survived enough violence already.”
“But it is something to think about, so thank you. The longer I live here and work for you and feel safe? The easier it gets to think a little further into the future.”
“I’m glad. You’re a dear friend, Nat.”
“So are you.”
A car alarm wailing startled Nat into nearly dropping his soda can. It sounded close, like it could be Chase’s car, but he’d never heard the alarm before.
“Sounds like mine,” Chase said. “Why would it go off in the driveway, though?”
“I don’t know, stray dog?” Hopefully, a stray dog or maybe even a kid’s soccer ball. He occasionally heard kids outside on the street, but Nat wasn’t familiar with their neighbors. He walked into the mud room and grabbed the keys off the hook. Pressed the red alarm button. A second alarm began blaring, so Nat hit the button again, and it stopped. “It’s not your car!”
Curious, Nat stepped out onto the side porch. Just Chase’s car in the driveway. The alarm was very close, but no other vehicles were immediately in view on the street. He took a few more steps into the driveway, in case someone was parked in front of Chase’s house.
A pickup was across the street, but it was old and beat up, and its lights weren’t flashing from any sort of alarm. Weird. It was the middle of the day on a weekday. So what was—there. He spotted a small, black object on the hood of Chase’s car, all the way up by the windshield.
“What the hell?” He squinted, but with the distance and shadows from the tall shade trees angled over the driveway, he couldn’t make it out. New alarms began ringing, these inside of his head. Nat took a step backward, toward the porch, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.
He hit something warm and solid, and he yelped. An arm wrapped around his throat, another around his waist, and he was being squeezed. Nat couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t dislodge from the bigger body holding him. His vision blurred from fear and lack of oxygen. Blood thundered in his ears.
Everything started getting far away.
Oh God, Zack, I’m sorry.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
A constant, rocking motion drew Nat toward wakefulness—and a pounding headache. His throat hurt, his head throbbed, and as awareness stole in, he realized he couldn’t move most of his body. He was sitting in some sort of seat, slightly reclined so his head lolled to the side, and his arms were immobilized. The cloying scent of familiar, musky cologne startled him into trying to sit up.
A strap across his chest held him down, and Nat blinked at the sight of greens and browns racing past his face. Trees. Through a window. What the fuck?
“You waking up, baby doll?”
Austin’s drawl scraped down Nat’s spine like razor wire. He turned his head to the left, and his stomach curled into a ball of ice. Nat was confined in the front passenger seat of a car, arms duct-taped together, legs duct-taped just above his knees. More around his ankles. And Austin was driving them somewhere in the mountains.
“You fucker,” Nat said before he could stop himself. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“We never got our goodbye. I left one day, and when I came home, you’d disappeared. You worried me a lot, I told you that on the Fourth of July. You shouldn’t have worried me.”
“So, you kidnapped me? God, you are insane.”
Austin’s right hand snapped out and punched him hard in the upper thigh. Austin always knew exactly where the right nerve was, and Nat’s eyes watered from the pain that shot up to his hip. “You might want to be a little nicer to me, baby. We’re miles from the nearest truck stop or sheriff’s station.”
