Page 77 of The One Night Match
How could I be so stupid?
Even knowing someone has it out for me, I still took glasses of champagne without knowing who they came from, without seeing it be poured from the bottle like Cruz was before he left.
I wonder if that was part of the plan. Luring him out of here and leaving me as a sitting duck, waiting to be picked off.
I’m distracted from my muddled thoughts when hands grip me under the arms, hauling me up over a shoulder.
“Careful with her,” a feminine voice snaps. “He wanted her unharmed.”
“I’m sure a few bruises won’t be a problem,” a male says.
Both are vaguely familiar, but I can’t make them out through the fog. Every step we take makes my stomach roll, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold back the vomit climbing up the back of my throat.
Something tells me throwing up down this guy’s back isn’t going to end well for me. But if he keeps jostling me around like this, I might not have any say in the matter.
And he is kidnapping me, so he kind of deserves it.
“Hurry up!” The woman hisses.
Why does she sound so familiar?
I mean, I probably spoke to her tonight. I’ve spoken to almost every woman in the De Luca family, so it stands to reason that I would have spoken to whoever is betraying us, but hers feels particularly familiar.
“I’m moving as fast as I can. You can carry the bitch if you think it’s so easy.” His growl is what places him in my mind.
Timothy.
Which means the woman is Monica.
Oh my god. I knew these two hated me, but this is a bit extreme.
I open my mouth to try to scream, but nothing comes out. At this point, I’m not sure my brain and body are even connected anymore, and my mind swims with what they could have drugged me with and how long it may last.
Given what these people do for a living, it could be any number of things. The De Luca family runs drugs throughout Washington, Montana, Oregon, and parts of Canada, which means most of the organization would have no problem finding a date rape drug.
If I’m lucky, that’s what it is. If I’m not, it could be something with more permanent side effects.
If I live long enough for that to be an issue.
The thought is terrifying, even more so than it would have been a few months ago.
Back before this whole matchmaker thing started, when I was adamant about how happy I was, adamant that I didn’t need a man in my life.
But so much has changed since then. I’ve changed, and the thought that I might not get the chance to tell Cruz how I feel hurts almost as much as my head.
Cool air rushes around me, and another wave of panic hits me.
We’re outside.
We’re going to a second location, which is famously the worst thing that can happen, but I’m powerless to stop it.
“Get her in the car,” Monica whispers. She’s further away than she has been since they grabbed me, maybe on the other side of the car?
A door opens, and my stomach swoops, darkness eating into the edges of my vision as consciousness begins to fade.
“Hey!” someone yells, causing Timothy to jolt, a muttered curse slipping from his lips. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Mind your business,” he growls. He drops me against hard leather, causing pain to radiate through my body.
