Page 109 of The Games We Play
“Let’s ride,” King says.
Within minutes, Halo has taken over. Locations have been identified and small groups of riders dispatched. Two prospects race towards Bethlehem to see if the van is headed back to the sleazebag who harassed Iris at the cafe. Pairs split over the main roads out of Asbury Park, while Vex works on the plates to get us an address.
The rest are returning to the club to arm up to hit the warehouse.
And all the while, I keep up the litany.
Keep her safe for me.
Keep her safe for me.
Keep her safe for me.
Because I don’t think I’ll be able to survive if she isn’t.
35
IRIS
Rope digs into my wrists, burning them when I try to wiggle free. My brace has been removed and discarded. Everything aches. I’m in a bright room, not that I can see anything. There’s a tiny gap beneath my blindfold that is letting in light. Wherever I am, I’m not alone.
The sound of sobs echoes around me. I want to join them.
Panic rises again. My head throbs so badly it’s a whooshing in my ears.
Fear tastes metallic in my mouth.
Time has become a blur, and all I can hope is that Vex got the alarm, and Spark figures out where I am—fast.
I don’t know where my phone is.
“When is the goddamn van arriving?” a man mutters.
A whisper of a breeze blows briefly over my knees, then stops. A door opening maybe. I’m sitting on cold concrete. It’s dusty beneath my fingers, where they dangle behind my back.
“Hello?” I whisper.
A loud bang ricochets off what I assume are corrugated walls, like a mill or factory.
“Shh,” the person nearest to me hisses. Another mutters a word in a language I don’t understand. There are at least five of us that I can tell.
I wiggle my nose to see if I can inch the blindfold up a fraction. It takes many attempts, but finally I’m able to make out three pairs of feet beneath chairs around a table.
“Up,” someone yells from behind me. My arms are wrenched in their sockets, and I cry out in pain as I stumble to my feet.
“Quiet.” The voice is different.
I can’t see again; the blindfold has dropped. My feet scream in agony as I’m dragged to what seems like the other side of the building. When I get there, the ropes tying my hands are pulled above my head. The pain in my wrist makes me gag. It hasn’t had enough time to heal yet. My feet leave the ground just for a moment, and then I settle back onto the balls of my feet. Every part of me is stretched.
I spin slightly, unable to put enough weight on my feet to remain stationary.
Hands slide beneath my blouse. The fingertips are smooth, unlike Spark’s calloused hands. A cold sweat covers me.
“Don’t,” I plead. I try to move away, but I lose my footing and start to spin.
A man chuckles. “You aren’t in a position to ask. You’re ours to do what we want with.” For kicks, he shoves me hard in the stomach, and the simple act of flinching takes my toes off the ground, making me swing again. I sob because my arms feel as though they are being ripped from my body.
“I can get you money. Please.” At least I hope I can. Cillian would pay for my return ... for a fee or favor. I need to cling to the idea that I can get cash to hold me over until Spark can find me.
