Page 15 of Guardian's Touch

It stinks.

My head is pounding so hard that I’m afraid it will split open.

How long was I out?

Panic makes my heart race—not a good idea since that only makes my head pound harder. I’m going to throw up if it gets worse, which would seriously suck since there’s a gag in my mouth.

I’m going to die here. I’ll choke to death on my own vomit.

Get it together.I can’t afford to lose my shit. These are not friends, obviously. I need to stay calm and pray they don’t hurt me any worse than they already have. Whoever they are.

Is this the kind of thing Dane was talking about? How dangerous things are now? He wasn’t kidding.

I’m in a car, lying across the back seat. I feel the door against my feet—my ankles are bound together and going numb, but there’s still some feeling left. The same is true for my hands, bound at the wrist behind my back. I flex my fingers, hoping it will keep the blood flowing.

What difference will it make? I honestly don’t know. I only know I have to do something to help myself. Otherwise, I’ll fall apart and be useless.

“No wonder he was such an animal over her last night.”

I don't know the voice, but there's nastiness in it. From the direction of his voice, he’s driving the car. “I would have kicked the shit out of anybody trying to put their hands on this one.”

“Dressed the way she is?” a man in the passenger seat responds. “You know he's been tapping that ass.”

“Who wouldn't? Can you imagine having that running around your house all day long?” They both laughed nastily before he adds, “I thought you said you heard he wants her out of there.”

“Nobody ever said he was smart.”

My head might be pounding like it's going to explode, and I might be blindfolded and gagged, but I can still put a few things together.

These men kidnapped me. I didn't have time to scream and didn't even think to until the last second, figuring one of the guards was coming in through the back door. I was too busy being embarrassed about what I was wearing to turn around—if I had, I would have seen whoever ended up hitting me across the back of the head and knocking me out.

I must be bleeding back there. My scalp is on fire. What else have they done to me? A fresh flash of terror bursts in my chest.

Focus.

Ignoring the pain in my head isn't easy, but I do it and focus on my body. I'm not sore anywhere I wasn't before they took me, so the slight ache still throbbing between my legs must be from Dane. They didn't hurt me, not that way.

But they could. They could hurt me badly. They could even kill me. What's stopping them? I don't even know why they took me in the first place. I'm not involved in Dane's life that way. I don't even know how anybody knows about me.

From the way it sounds in the front seat, these guys knew exactly who I was when they took me. It wasn't like they broke in, found me, and made a split-second decision.

It sounds like word got out about what happened in the club. Maybe that's how they know I exist. Dane did sort of make a scene, and then he carried me out.

Maybe the bouncer he fired went to their enemy, whoever it is.

And maybe I need to stop making up stories in my head to explain this. What I need to do is figure out how to deal with it.

“Boss.” I flinch at how the passenger seat man barks the word. I've never had a headache like this before. Every little move, every sound makes the pain worse. “We got her. We're taking her to the location.”

At least now I know for sure they went in to get me. Not that it makes a difference. I’m still tied up in a car that stinks like old fast-food wrappers and cigarette smoke.

This is all my fault. They probably wouldn't know I existed if I hadn't gone to the club. And he was talking about this when he said I need to listen to him, that he knows better.

Maybe he should have told me that sooner. If I had known how dangerous his life really was...

No, I can't do that now, either. Blaming him, hating myself. Nothing I did last night means I deserve this. I didn’t earn a kidnapping by going out with a friend.

This is all on them. These animals who stole me from my home and now have the nerve to laugh at me—and my relationship with Dane. They don’t have the first clue about us.

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