Chapter Eighteen

Quinn

The sting of cold airand the overpowering aroma of raw meat jerk me from blissful darkness.

I wake with a start. Panic chases away the haze of my drug-induced sleep. My mouth is dry. I try to lick my lips, but there’s something in my mouth. A piece of fabric pins my tongue down. I choke for want of spit. A gag? What the hell?

When I reach up to remove it, my body refuses to respond. I twist my wrists in the ropes binding them behind me. My feet are tied to the heavy, metal chair beneath me. Fuck!

My head snaps up, taking in my surroundings, searching for something or someone to free me. Cool air drifts around me. A warehouse...no, a meat locker. I eye carcasses hanging against the far wall. It’s a gigantic cooler for storing meat.

I shiver, and I can’t blame it solely on the cold.

Did the murderer find me? Is he going to torture me for information and then kill me? It’d be easy to dispose of a body from a meat locker.

But he’ll probably leave me for someone else to find. The rapid beat of my heart chases the breath from my lungs. I can’t breathe.

Desperate for escape, I pull against the bonds, jerking my arms, kicking my feet. It’s no use. The knots are tight. Cold air bites my lungs with every sharp inhale. It’s hard to breathe with this scrap of cloth jammed in my mouth.

I close my eyes to focus on gaining control. Panic makes it worse. Breathe in. Breathe out.

A soft click echoes through the large room. My eyes snap open and search for the sound.

“She’s awake.” A voice drifts from the distance, and a warm breeze follows, ghosting over my back and bare arms.

There’s another click and the warmth disappears.

A stream of muttered curses rips from my throat, but the words are muffled by the damn gag. I fight against the ropes. It’s no use.

My body stills at the gentle brush of fingertips against my neck. I nearly puke at the thought of someone taking liberties with me in such a vulnerable position. They could have done anything they wanted when I was unconscious, but they didn’t. I choke back the nausea and jerk away from the touch.

A soft chuckle surrounds me.

Before I can register the sound, they pull at the gag, and the sound of a blade slicing through fabric stops my heart. The gag falls away, and I cough, relief filling me at the loss of pressure against my tongue and jaw.

“What the fuck do you want?” I choke out the words, my voice hoarse and raspy.

“Is that any way to greet your brother?”

He steps into view, and rage fills me.

“Stepbrother.” I hiss and lunge forward, pulling against the bonds, making him laugh. The sound sparks a thousand memories, none of them good or comforting. “Why the fuck did you kidnap me?”

“Oh, that. Well, I had to get your attention since you’ve been avoiding me.” He hovers over me like a dictator interrogating an unruly subject. His blue eyes flash with amusement, but the twitch of his mouth belies his impatience. “Apparently, Jack’s warning wasn’t enough of a reminder.”

He’s right. I’ve been avoiding him for months. I should have known he would hunt me down if I didn’t comply with his demands for repayment in a timely manner. I had forgotten about Jack’s warning on the subway. His lackeys’ constant reminders were annoying, but I should have known he’d respond in a dramatic manner if I kept maintaining my distance.

“I haven’t been avoiding you.” I hold his gaze, hoping he’ll buy the lie. “I’ve run into some problems.”

“Problems?”

He leans down and takes my chin in his hand. When I attempt to jerk away from his touch, he grasps it tightly, and I flinch at the painful grip.

“Shacking up with a cop is more than a problem, little sister.”

“Stop fucking calling me that,” I spit. My defiance dissipates at the smile slowly curving his lips. I should have known they’d be following me. But how did they know I was with Grant?

“Until you repay your debt, I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want.” He releases my chin and steps back. “Why are you hiding under the pig’s roof?”