Page 12 of Broken Princess

Still, I decide that my best chance is just going along with them. For now.

The guy opens the door without moving the gun off me and pushes my head down to force me into the back seat. The moment he does, he orders my hands behind my back and binds them with a zip tie.

It's only a split second before he gets in across from me, thwarting my makeshift plan to look for an opportunity to jump out of the car.

Yeah, that's not going to happen.

An opportunity will come eventually, though. Maybe I just need to tell myself that, but either way…

The car starts up, and the driver is going so fast I find myself hoping maybe, by some miracle, he'll get pulled over. Not likely, at the rate things are going.

"Who are you working for?" I ask once we've been on the road for a while without incident.

The man narrows his eyes. He's younger than I assumed, likely not past his mid-thirties. He looks like any other guy I've run into on the street, and he's nicely dressed with a clean-cut look about him. I'm not really sure what an evil kidnapper looks like in my mind, but not him.

"You're not in a position to be asking questions, girly."

It's a careful balance I have to strike between getting information that could save my life and not pissing off my captor. "You must want something," I press. "But I can't help you if I don't know what that something is."

He watches me for another couple of moments, and I can't tell whether he is thinking about killing me or answering.

“For starters, you're going to make a phone call to your daddy," he finally says, picking my purse up off the floor where he tossed it. He reaches in and pulls out my phone.

"My father?" I echo. "What do you want with him?"

"Don't get smart with me," he scoffs. "We know you're Carrillo's daughter.”

Any thought I might have had to deny it goes out the window when I remember that he's already guilty of kidnapping and I've seen his face, so even if I do manage to convince him that he has the wrong person, that's not going to win me any favors.

"Okay, so I am," I say with a shrug, trying not to look as petrified as I am. It's a tall order, though. Given the circumstances, I think I'm kind of justified in being scared shitless. "Is it money you're after?”

He just smirks. "You don't need to be worrying about that right now. Just do what you're told, like I said."

"I can't exactly make a phone call to anyone with my arms bound behind my back, can I?"

He scrolls through my phone and goes through my contacts, I assume. I see Dad pop up on the screen and grimace as the phone rings. Worrying about my freedom coming to an end doesn't seem to matter at the moment, but I guess if nothing else, he can't blame me for getting kidnapped.

Actually, scratch that. I'm pretty sure that's the first thing he's going to do. Assuming he even picks up the phone.

It rings for almost a minute before my kidnapper hangs up, scowling. "Not even going to answer the phone for his own daughter," he remarks. "Not very attentive, is he?"

You have no idea,I think. "He's probably just in a meeting. He thinks I'm at school."

"Bullshit," he says. "We've been watching you. We know you only got into Vegas a week ago, and you haven't gone to any school."

I decide not to argue. At least if he thinks Dad would recognize my number, he doesn't know I ran away. That's… probably a good thing.

"If you just tell me what you want—"

"Shut up," he snaps, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "The only thing you need to worry about is keeping your mouth shut until we get to where I'm going and hopefully, your old man decides to pick up the phone."

I gulp. That's a big if, knowing him. For all I know, he's relieved I'm gone. I wouldn't exactly be surprised.

Hurt, yeah, but that's nothing new where he's concerned.

For a moment, I contemplate the unthinkable—calling Lorenzo. It doesn't take long for me to dismiss the idea, though, because for all I know, that could make me an even bigger target. Lorenzo has his share of enemies, like he was so keen to mention to me.

We drive for what feels like forever even though it can't have been more than ten or fifteen minutes before the car takes a ramp off the highway and I begin to lose hope of getting pulled over.

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